Blood For Blood
by xxxFrostMane
Summary: Wrong place wrong time or a series of events set into motion by fate? Wolves and Lions were never meant to be together, only fire and blood can prove otherwise. Loyalties tested, hearts broken, lives taken. A seer can never be trusted. Robb/OC
1. Chapter 1:  From Dreams to Nightmares

Here comes a classic authors note! Guess what? I DON'T OWN GAME OF THRONES! I'm sure we can all agree to that. Good, now so you know, so far the only character I own is Sura, my main OC. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter One<span>**

**From Dreams to Nightmares**

It was moments past dawn, and the sky was awash with the brilliant pinks and oranges that marked the birth of a new day. A soft wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and the little grass that still protruded from the light covering of snow bent in the breeze. The birds chiming in the crisp air, calling out love songs to the morning. The pastel colors faded from the sky, and a bright blue sky was covered by dancing gray clouds that twisted and turned in the wind currents above. Two horses stood on an outcropping, one as white as snow decorated in livery or ivory and ash, the other appeared to be made of gold and was dressed in colors of obsidian and scarlet. The two stood, staring off into the west, watching the night retreat, standing as close as they could. Their breath hung like tendrils of smoke in the air, dancing and twirling in the breeze before disappearing. Their manes and tails played like banners in the wind, the colors playing the sunlight and merging to form shades more beautiful than they could have in reality. A raven squawked and circled above them, its glittering eyes narrowing in suspicion as it flapped its wings and continued on its way, its body shimmering as feather turned to scale. The two horses occasionally turned to one another and touched noses, as if silently communicating in the growing light of day. Suddenly, the golden steed turned and rubbed its nose on the white horses' shoulder, and as it came away a sharp line of red burst forth from its side and liquid spilled down its legs. The creature didn't cry out in pain, nor did the golden one seem to notice the injury, the alabaster one simply buckled and fell to its knees, lifting its head to stare at the west, its honey colored eyes desperately clinging to the edge of the world. With a great sigh it fell completely, resting its head in a patch of wildflowers that seemed to melt through the snow. The golden horse turned its head, and suddenly, pierced the silence with a heart wrenching scream as the world was engulfed by fire and a mighty shadow fell over everything.

The scream magnified and shattered the dream as breath rushed into her lungs and she sat bolt upright. Dizziness assaulted her mind as she gulped down air and the world around her slowly came into view. The plush wine colored fabric of her tent, the brightly colored rugs that lined the ground, the fire that crackled away in its burner were all familiar sights and for a moment she calmed. Until her ears began to work once more and sound came rushing like an ocean wave into her consciousness. The singular scream of the golden horse morphed into the scream of an actual horse, not far from the back of her tent. She could hear sounds of battle, of men clamoring with their armor, of metal meeting metal and metal meeting flesh. Her heart suddenly hammered in her head. What should she do? The nearby cry of a man, filled with pain and anguish, forced her body to move. Bolting out of bed, she slipped her stocking-covered feet into her soft leather boots and wretched them on before she quickly pulled a robe over her night gown, fumbling with the laces in the front as her eyes darted left and right with the sounds that echoed around her. She bit back a scream as a servant fell through the flaps of her tent, her eyes fading as her hands were drenched red from the gaping wound in her chest. With her dying breath, the servant warned her. "Run."

Not thinking, she bolted out the secret flap at the back of her tent, sunlight assaulting her eyes as she attempted to catch her bearings. What she saw when she stepped into the clear morning air made her stomach churn. Blood and gore and bodies lined the army camp, she stared into the faces of soldiers and servants she had known, as well as many she didn't. Most of the men she knew were half armored, as if the attack had come by surprise and they had rushed to prepare themselves. There was a group of men fighting outside her tent, and she bit back a scream as she caught sight of her personal guards, both fearless warriors who had sworn to protect her to the death. She could see young Tobias, his eyes staring at the sky, his throat a jagged line, red dripping over his lips. Numarious was still fighting, yelling obscenities, along with screaming for her to run, as if he believed she was still hiding inside. Tears poured from her eyes as his opponents sword hacked through his chest, and cut his last cry short. She couldn't allow the sight of such slaughter to immobilize her, she had to run, had to get to safety, and so she clambered through the mud and dodged corpses as she ran blindly through the camp, her heart pounding as she thought of the only place she'd be safe. She evaded as much of the fighting as she could, covering her mouth with her hand when some would rush past or when she caught sight of men in glittering armor, swords bathed red in blood. One pair of soldiers caught sight of her, raised their blades and with an evil glint in their eyes chased after her. Gasping in fear and desperation, she ran, picking up the skirt of her robe and gown and ran, her feet flying over the ground as she jumped over bodies, throwing desperate glances over her shoulder to keep track of her pursuers.

She tripped suddenly, pain surging through her leg as she fell, throwing her hands out to catch herself as she tumbled into a disfigured corpse she snapped her eyes shut, afraid of what she was colliding with. Disgust and pain danced before her eyes and shot through her hands and wrists, bile rose in her throat as she felt mud and gore splash onto her face. The disfigured corpse below her sent her reeling as his still warm blood covered the front of her robe. She scrambled to get to her feet, cringing at the ache that had formed in her chest from the sudden exertion, and in her head from the screaming and her collision with the earth. Rough hands grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet and a terrified cry ripped itself from her throat as she struggled to break free. His hands caught her roughly and shook her and her dizzy eyes desperately searched his face, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't one of the camp's attackers. Relief washed over her when she realized that she knew him. Vetton was a sworn protector of her house; she'd known him since she was a little girl. His grizzled beard was covered in mud and grit, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and she was surprised to see that he wore no armor at all. What had happened? How had they been taken by surprise?

"My lady! Are you hurt?" He asked in bewilderment as he held her at arm's length. She shook her head quickly, locks of her unkempt golden hair dancing about her face as her braid whipped back and forth from the movement to indicate her response, not trusting her voice. He opened his mouth as if to say something, when his sharp eyes snapped behind her as her pursuers finally caught up and appeared before them. Roughly he shoved her behind him and took a fighting stance, the sword in his hands glittering, though it was already stained. "Go my Lady! To your father! I'll hold these two off. Run!"

Sobbing, she nodded and lifted her skirts free from her feet once more as she ran and the two who had chased her rushed at her rescuer. A pang of guilt stabbed at her chest. She was leaving Vetton to his death. She knew unarmored and outnumbered, there was little way he was going to survive the altercation. He had bought her time though, much needed time. She bolted, blindly through the camp, dodging groups of retreating servants, terrified as she was by the morning's bloody turn of events. The red tents rushed past as a unified blur as she attempted to navigate the labyrinth of the encampment, her bearing returning slowly. A cry of relief escaped her she finally came to the tent she'd been seeking. Lions danced on white banners before the entrance, the wind twisting them and forcing them to snap loudly. It was a welcoming sight. She dashed past the guards who stood half armored, weapons at the ready to defend their commander. Several of them nodded to her, or spoke hushed greetings, a few blessings of her safety, but they did not stop her as entered the tent. She found her father hastily fastening the straps of his armor, frustrated that his hands fumbled as he rushed. Without a moment's hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck, tears rolling down her cheek and his strong arms closed around her in relief. She was safe, thank the gods she was safe!

"Sura! Thank the Gods! I was so worried," He said as he cupped her face in his hands, taking in the sight of her, disheveled and covered in grime and blood, tears spilling from her eyes. He couldn't discern whether the blood was hers or another's. She had no overly visible wounds, however, and relief flooded over him. He smoothed his hands over her messy golden hair and tried to quiet her, seeing the fear that swelled in her aquamarine eyes. God how he wanted to banish that fear from her eyes forever, and slaughter all those who had caused it. The sounds of battle drew closer to the tent and one of his guards called to him, warming him, urging him to hurry. Her eyes searched the interior, terrified that more soldiers would slice through the tent and rush towards them. Wide eyes roamed back to her father's handsome face, quiet and calm and filled with relief. How could he be so steady? How was he not afraid? Why was she afraid? Her father was the mightiest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms. There was no man who could stand in battle against him and survive, so why was she afraid?

"They killed everyone!" She cried no longer able to restrain the raw emotion that came spilling out of her. The faces of men she'd known washed through her mind. They were dead, murdered, killed, for what? Their blood mixed with the mud and the thought made her stomach retch again. How many of them had died? What of her friends? Of her other guards who hadn't been on duty that morning. Were they dead as well? What of her servants whom she'd come to adore? "They're all dead."

"Calm yourself Sura! Look at me, look at me!" He grabbed her shoulders roughly and forced her to meet his gaze, her wide eyes searching his as her breath came in gulps and gasps as she attempted to calm her shattered nerves. He removed his hands from her shoulders and held her face once more. His rough hands held her face softly, as if she was a rare and delicate flower that would wilt with too much force. He was strong and steady where as she was terrified and trembling. He had known years of war, this was nothing new to him, and her fear was understandable. She felt some of his strength seep into her, steadying her nerves as she finally calmed her sobbing. "Listen to me, you are safe here. They will not get past me. Should they break through hide yourself and then run home. You remember how? Do you remember?"

"Yes father," she said in a strangled whisper, fear and terror rippling through her body as she struggled to remember and weed through the endless amount of maps she'd been forced to study over the past several weeks. Safe route after safe route popped into her head as she remembered all the ways he'd shown her how to escape. But he said he would not fall, he could not fall, so why worry about escape?

"That's my girl," he said as he kissed her forehead quickly and brandished his sword before rushing out the front of the tent to the beckoning calls of his men. He had more to fight for now than his own life. No one could get past him, not one of these northern bastards could be given a chance to lay a hand of his girl. Setting his jaw, he prepared to defend himself and the one thing he truly treasured in his life as he caught sight of the men who had invaded his camp. He roared, like the lion of his house, and rushed at the attackers, satisfaction surging through his veins as his blade tasted bone. Inside the tent, shaking and unsteady, Sura rummaged desperately through her father's things. She wasn't exactly sure why she was desperately digging through the trunks or what exactly she was looking for until she found it. Quiet washed over her panicking mind as her fingers closed along the smooth wooden curve of a short bow, a clutch of arrows were wrapped in fabric and hidden within a trunk. Her father was no archer, but she was. Ever since she was little she'd been allowed to practice with a bow until she'd become an expert marksman, nearly better than the best men in her grandfather's house. There had been a handful of occasions where her father had taken her hunting, allowing her to try her hand at slaying live prey instead of wooden ones. Sura was not a novice to taking life, though she'd never killed a man and close combat frightened her. Grabbing the first arrow, she carefully notched it and stood facing the doorway, heart hammering in her chest, as she prepared to defend herself.

The fighting raged outside, the sound roaring in her ears like the sound of the ocean waves hammering against the rocks on a stormy day. She heard the dying screams of men as they were cut down, their lives ended brutishly. Disbelief and dismay seized her heart as she heard her father roaring viciously before silence fell over the camp, and then a cry of victory went up. She recognized none of the voices that celebrated, and a lurking fear clawed its way into her mind. Had he fallen? Had her father truly been defeated? With shaking hands she lifted the bow and prepared herself, she knew they would come. Her first shot hit home with a resounding thud as a soldier came blundering into her father's tent, hammering through the leather armor of his chest. Another man spewed blood as her second shot ripped through his throat, a gurgled gasp escaped his lips before he stumbled to his knees and then fell. A third was knocked back, but not killed, when her arrow pierced his shoulder. Desperate she let another fly, and it slammed into the calm of one who'd shoved past his wounded brother. Another nonfatal strike, she though in dismay as she struggled to let another loose, but it simply bounced off the man's helmet. By then there were too many in the tent for her to fight, she had not been quick enough or accurate enough and panic washed over her. The bow was knocked from her hand and a back hand to the face left her sprawled on the ground. She felt the pain sharp on her cheek, and tasted blood in her mouth and knew that a bruise would soon her mar her perfect face.

"What's this eh? Lannister's whore?" One called out to his comrades, his accent heavy and difficult to understand. She screamed and struggled as he lifted her from the ground, her nails biting into the flesh of his face as she fought desperately to break free. She knew what happened to women in war, she'd been told storied as a child, but she'd never thought it could happen to her. None of this should have happened, she should have been safe here. She was wrong. Her father had said she'd be safe, that nothing would touch her, that nothing could touch her. Where was he now? She flinched in anticipation of his next strike, but the soldier's wrist was caught by another. His armor was finer, his flaxen hair was unkempt and his gray eyes blazed furiously as he stared down the soldier who'd knocked her onto her father's bed. A ripple of relief washed through her, she'd been saved. For a moment the two stared each other down, and she believed that they might fight, and then after a tense moment her attacker pulled his hand fee and adjusted his shoulder guard. Another ripple of relief surged through her, stronger this time. But, the one who'd stopped her assailant looked down at her with a wolfish grin, and despair crashed over her again. No one was going to save her.

"Take this one to Lord Stark," he said slowly, inclining his head in her direction before turning and striding out of the tent, his fur lined cloak billowing behind him as he moved, not before he shot her another look, dark and lustful. This couldn't be happening; it was just part of her nightmare. It couldn't be real. She screamed and battled but two of the men easily over powered her, dragging her off her father's bed, forcing her to her feet, yet still she fought. Never give in, her father had said to her. Never surrender. She threw an elbow into one of her captor's jaws, and he retaliated with a sharp blow to her head that sent her senses reeling, knocking her into complacency, and silently with little trouble they bound her hands.

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><p>Now! REVIEW MY MINIONS! Please, I'd so enjoy your feedback :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2: Prisoners of War

AUTHORS NOTE! :D For anyone who wants to know what the inspiration for Sura's appearance is, simply look up Tamsin Egerton who plays Guinevere in the Starz series Camelot, which I'm starting to love as well.

Yay! Review responses:

**BiteMeYouSuck** you're name made my day, and thanks the review, hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well.

**thePatient07** my writing style is obscenely descriptive, and I love mass amounts of text – I aim for roughly 4,000 words a chapter if I can manage it…sorry if you find it disjointed – I'll do my best to make it as fluid as possible. I use the settings at the top right of the page to turn the background dark and the text light (which I find it easier to read mass amounts of text) and I use the ¾ setting to put it all together :D

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><p><strong>WARNING<strong> - I'm sure you're going to feel that there's a shifting point of view in this chapter, from Robb to Sura to Jamie to Sura to Catlyn to Sura...yeah...I have a tendency to do that...so just letting you know this isn't from the eyes of one person. Besides, where's the fun in that? Oh, but I'm sure most of us fangirls were expecting this to be an explicit content warning, hmmm? Don't lie! I CAN SEE YOU BLUSH THROUGH THE INTERNET! No, no I'm kidding...anyways...those won't be till later my loves, so enjoy :P

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

**Prisoners of War**

The day had been long and hard, the battle had been bloody and guilt lingered like bad food in his stomach. He had knowingly sent two thousand brave men to their graves, he had destroyed two thousand families, murdered fathers, brothers, sons, uncles, cousins maybe not by his own hand, but he felt just as guilty as if he had. The men were celebrating, despite his sobering words. Soldiers called out to him as he passed, flanked by his mother and Theon Greyjoy, he nodded his recognition to them absently. Grey Wind barked loudly and deeply as he appeared at his master's side, his dark fur glistening in the sunlight as he fell into step beside his master, bobbing his head beneath Robb's hand, attempted to draw his attention. The crisp air in his lungs, the mud beneath his boots, the sun glinting off his armor and the song birds in the trees couldn't rid him of the darkness that loomed over his heart. They had been successful in their objective. They'd broken through half of the Lannister's forces; they'd successfully captured the Queen's brother and freed the Riverlands from the Lion's grip. Yet still his sisters remained captive, as did his father. He felt as though nothing had truly been accomplished, though hopefully he could free some if not all of his family using the Kingslayer as an exchange. Certainly Lord Tywin would not risk losing his heir. Running a hand through his messy brown hair Robb tried to clear his head, yet the faces of the men he'd killed and the men he'd sent to their deaths swam before his eyes in a swirling mist. Theon had told him that there was something he needed to see, something else they'd taken from the Lannister camp that could be of use, of value, and Robb was eager yet sick about what it might be. All thoughts were banished from his head, however, when he burst through the flaps of his tent, his breath caught in his throat and his heart seemed to stop as he drank in the sight of what awaited him.

Firelight danced off golden hair that was clearly messy, and coated in mud, mire and gore, yet was still captured in a braid that fell across her shoulder. Her sheer white night dress was visible beneath the pale blue, embroidered robe she wore, though both were soiled with blood and filth. Yet these things could not detract from her beauty, angelic and breathtaking, rare and exotic. A bruise, purple and garish marred the porcelain skin of her face. She sat in a straight backed wooden chair, her wrists bound and bloody in her lap, her eyes downcast. Surely she had heard them enter, surely she had felt their presence filling the room, yet still she stared at the leather boots on her feet. A thousand questions suddenly invaded his mind, none of them related to the battle or the lives that had been lost or what their next move would be, but about her. The angel that sat, captive in his tent, he looked to Theon for an explanation.

"Found her in Jamie Lannister's tent. Killed two of your men with a bow, injured two others. She's probably his whore, though you might find a use for her," Theon said darkly, his eyes dancing menacingly in the firelight. A whore? Of course, that would have been one of the only reasons Theon would have brought her back to camp. He'd already become tired of all the girls that had travelled along with the war party, but that was his way. He used women and then went looking for the next one. Robb found it hard to believe that such a creature was a common whore, how could something so divine be so sullied and spoiled to the world? He watched her closely, saw how her fists clenched when he'd called her a whore, swore he saw the muscle in her jaw jump in agitation. Was it indignation? Anger? Fear? Embarrassment? Robb nodded to the guard at her side who roughly brought her to her feet, mere steps away from Robb and Theon. "Do you want her or not? She's a hellcat this one, probably quite a ride."

Robb saw rage saturate her eyes, a brilliant shade of blue-green, so fierce and striking he knew he would never forget them. She moved as if the strike Theon, but he quickly caught her bound hands in one of his and roughly backhanded her with the other. She gasped in pain as she collapsed to the ground, turning furiously to gaze up at Theon and Robb, hatred filing her eyes. His blow had cut her cheek and her lip had been split open, her beautiful sculpted lips, soft and pink, like spring roses. She lay on the ground, holding herself up on her bound hands, staring up at them with indignation and fury.. Theon laughed and looked down at her, his tone as mocking as his stance. "Who do you think you are girl?"

"More valuable than you'll ever be wretch," she spat as his feet. She was a hellcat alright, fighting to the bitter end, despite the fact that she was outnumbered and severely overpowered. Robb saw Theon's fury blaze and knew that he was probably nearly ready to just kill the girl and be done with it.

"Enough," Robb said sternly, as he grabbed hold of Theon's shirt, his eyes locked with his captive's. He crouched down, though still stood above her level, his head turned slightly to the side as he examined her face. She was work of art, sculpted by the finest craftsmen. She was something to be treasured, not beaten about like a toy. Compassion and honor would someday be his downfall, but something in his gut told him that there was nothing common about this girl, and he would see no one raise their hand to a woman, even if she'd moved to make the first strike. After a moment, he spoke softly to her once more, as if they were the only two in the room. "Who are you?"

His question was met with silence, as she shut her eyes and dropped her gaze back to the ground. Was it submission? Or acceptance? Did she truly believe that they were barbarians? His stomach turned sick to the idea. He stood once more and nodded to the guard to lift her to her feet. He turned his back on the girl and thought for a moment, the sound of the fire crackling in its burner the only thing breaking the silence, as everyone stood tense, anxiously awaiting what he would say, what judgment he would pass on the angel that had been brought before him. He looked to his mother, who gave him a soft sympathetic look; he nodded his head to the door and began to leave, calling over his shoulder. "Unbind her hands and bring her."

"Where are we taking her?" Lady Catlyn Stark asked her son as she gathered her skits and followed quickly behind him, slightly disgusted at Theon's behavior. Even Catlyn Stark had noticed the girl's beauty when she'd first entered the tent, even more so she'd noticed her spirit. Those eyes were so full of fight and fire; she had an idea that something wasn't quite what it appeared. She'd had too much fight in her blood for a brothel girl, and the clothes she'd worn had been too fine for a common whore, even the whore of a Lannister.

"To Jamie Lannister. They found her in his tent. If she'd anything to him, he's bound to show some reaction, if not…" his voice trailed off, but his mother felt her heart drop. She knew what he meant, and the very idea sickened her. Would her son really feed this poor girl to the wolves? Would he really allow her to be abused further by his men? Anger flared in her bones, but she remained quiet. War was a man's world, yet she stood beside him and supported him, as any mother would support her son. In this matter however, she decided to protect this poor girl should it prove that she was nothing special. Such a gem could not be tarnished by the filth of war – even if she was a spoil of the conquest. This was the least Catlyn Stark could do. They marched through the camp, Robb and Catlyn in the lead, Grey Wind close on their heel, followed shortly by their prisoner who was being led roughly by a bemused Theon Greyjoy with another guard behind them. They marched through the makeshift prison they'd created, captive Lannister soldiers stared – wide eyed – at the beautiful girl they hustled past, and Robb swore he saw recognition on their faces, and fury directed their way. The guards standing watch stepped aside and allowed Robb and his party past into the tiny clearing that was shielded by ruins on two sides.

A sturdy wooden pole sat in the center of the clearing, several smaller, stronger poles branches off from it and were driven into the ground. Shackled to the base of the pole, prevented from standing, his arms stretched almost to their limit, sat Jamie Lannister, the famous Kingslayer. Blood had dried on side of his face, stemming from a gash above his left eye. His lip was split as well, and for a moment he smirked at Robb and Lady Catlyn, but then his face turned ashen as he stared past them and his eyes caught sight of the girl held roughly in Theon's hands. A sob escaped her throat as she struggled to break free of his grasp, but she cringed as he only gripped her tighter. Robb saw the rage slowly creep over Jamie Lannister's features, his jaw tightening, his fists clenching and unclenching as he began to struggle against his bonds. With absolute hatred, his gaze burned through Robb. Suddenly, the girl broke free from Theon's grasp and ran to Jamie, falling on her knees before him, her hands brushing his hair out of her face as tears poured from her eyes. He tried to soothe her, to quiet her fears, tried to hold her through his bindings as he saw the fear and pain in her eyes. Fury raced through him as he took in the sight of the obscene bruise upon her face, the split in her lip and the cut on her cheek. None of them would scar, but the momentary imperfection on her face angered him more so than anything else had in his entire life. She tried to fight as the bulky guard stepped forward and pulled her back, and the sight of him forcing his daughter to cry out in pain broke Jamie Lannister's resolve.

"You filthy bastard!" He roared as he yanked against his chains, struggling to break free, then he turned to Robb with such fury and hatred and anger in his eyes, he thought that Jamie Lannister's soul would pour out of them, and roared, "I SWEAR TO THE GODS STARK! IF YOU TOUCH HER I'LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT MYSELF! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Take her back to my tent, see she's fed and her wounds are tended to," Robb said quietly to his mother, who looked in shock between Jamie Lannister and the blond haired beauty who was struggling in Rowan's grasp. She was a fighter, even with tears spilling from her eyes she struggled against the man who was twice her size. But Catlyn knew that look in Jamie's eyes, she knew that reaction, and it absolutely stunned her, but she nodded her understanding and looking to Rowan, signaling for him to lead the girl away before they provoked the wounded lion more. She screamed and battled, her words indiscernible between her sobs and cries, and then one word struck out that they all knew they'd heard. _Father._

"SURA!" Jamie roared, still struggling against his bonds despite the fact he knew it was futile. He bellowed her name once more before falling back against his chains as she faded out of sight, the pain and the agony clear on his face. Robb hid his true emotion behind a stoic mask, but in truth he was in awe. He had never seen the Kingslayer so unhinged, never seen him lose his composure so completely, so absolutely. It was incredible. He stepped forward and crouched beside Jamie Lannister, his gray eyes meeting the furious blue ones of his prisoner. Seething with animosity, Jamie spoke again. "Touch her at all, Stark, and I will slaughter your entire family, slowly and painfully. I'll make you watch as I carve them apart, and then I'll kill you."

"Why so broken Kingslayer?" Robb asked calmly and carefully, attempting to keep the mockery out of his tone, his eyes boring into Jamie Lannister's as he tried to glean anything other than his raw emotions, "What is she to you?"

"She's my blood, and my blood is more valuable than the blood of all the Starks," He growled, once more pulling at his shackles, but they didn't give way. Robb stood slowly, retaining his composure, until he turned and faced Theon, shock, awe and bewilderment plainly written on both their faces. That beautiful creature, that angel, was none other than the child of the Kingslayer.

**II**

She'd been placed in the same chair she'd been sitting in when the young Lord Stark had entered his tent, only now tears she was desperately trying to control were streaming down her face and her hands were unbound. She swallowed down a sob as she stared at the fire in the burner, not yet resigned to her fate as a prisoner of war. Any second now, the young Lord would march back into the tent and she shuddered to think of what he would do to her. She was a valuable prisoner, just as valuable as her father if not more so, and she was a woman. He could ransom her back to her family, but there did not have to be any specification on whether her honor was intact or not. She choked back another sob and mentally scolded herself. She was being weak and acting foolish. She was a Lannister, and she was neither of these things. She could remember when she was seven at her grandfather's keep in Casterly Rock, when she'd fallen and scraped her knee and had cried and cried. He had lifted her and held her and said very sternly, yet very softly, that she was a Lannister, and her tears were worth more than a skinned knee, and to save them. _Let no man see you weep,_ he'd said to her, _for they will perceive you as week. Are you weak little sparrow?_ She smirked at the nickname, and felt her strength flood back to her. The initial battle was over, and she had lost, but that didn't mean she was done fighting. Resolve burned in her veins as she gazed at the fire and she knew, no matter what happened, she would fight to the death for her freedom and her honor, and would find neither compromised by a warlord.

Her head turned quickly to the tent entrance when it fluttered opened, but it was not who she had expected. Lady Catlyn Stark, who was probably once a beauty herself, appeared. Sura felt shame sweep over her for a moment, the Lady of Winterfell stood before her, clean and in one piece, while she was dirty and tattered, her pride held together by strings. Compassion swept over the woman's face, a kind, motherly look that Sura hadn't known since she was eight. Several servants entered the tent and began to move about, one bore a basin of water, another a plate of food, another a mug and a pitcher of something. Several others brought with them buckets of steaming water, and Sura's brow knit in confusion. Lady Stark approached her and stood before her, a soft smile on her face.

"Come girl, let's see you tended to." She held out a hand to the frightened sixteen year old. For a moment, Sura just stared at her hand, before sighing and taking it with her own. Lady Stark helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she led her to the back of a tent. Sura knew she shouldn't have been excited by the sight of the bronze tub, but she was. The thought of washing the grime and dried blood from her skin and hair made her spirit soar. With some assistance form a servant girl she sank beneath the deliciously warm waters of the bath, realizing just how cold she'd been in nothing but her night dress and robe. Lady Catlyn took a sponge form one of the girls and waved her away, Sura was mildly shocked when Lady Catlyn took hold of her arm and delicately began scrubbing away the grime to reveal the cuts and scrapes she'd sustained during the day. Silence passed between them, and Sura felt tears falling from her eyes once more. How had it come to this?

"I'm sorry," Lady Catlyn said softly.

"Why are you sorry?" Sura asked coldly as she stared at her feet in the water, tears still streaming down her face that she was desperately trying to compose. "You can't possibly know what it's like. To see your father, you're protector, the man who cradled you as a child and told you you'd always be safe that everything would be alright, like that." She turned her eyes back up to Lady Stark, and Catlyn yearned to ease the pain and suffering she saw in the girl's eyes. Lannister or not, she was a girl, terrified by the situation she'd been thrown into. "I know what he did to your family, and I'm sorry, but he's all I have."

"Hush child," she said soothingly as she brushed away Sura's tears. The bath water had long gone cold by the time Sura was completely clean, her golden hair hung damp nearly to her elbows. While Catlyn wasn't proud of the fact that her son's men had raided the Lannister camp, she knew it was part of war. Men would be men, but they had gathered many of Sura's things from her tent, and after ordering a few trusted guards to collect it, Sura had been able to don one of her own gowns upon emerging from the water. The pale green fabric was embroidered with golden thread; the collar bore a carefully stitched pattern inlaid with tiny beads that picked up on the fire's shifting light. Sura's eyes had watered with gratitude as she'd held it, running her hands over the fabric as it slid over her head and carefully tied the laces in the front. Catlyn explained that anything of hers that had been taken from the camp was being brought to the tent, so at least she would not be without some of her possessions. Sura sat perfectly still as one of the healers wrapped the wounds on her wrists and carefully treated the two cuts on her face, cooperating as best she could. Finally she was allowed to eat, and despite the hunger that raged within her belly, she ate slowly, carefully, forcing herself to remember her manners. Catlyn couldn't lie; she was impressed with the girl and the amount of ruthless self-control she possessed under the circumstances. Then again, she was a Lannister. Suddenly, a question sparked in Lady Stark's mind and she looked at the girl with a new curiosity. "They said you killed two of our men with a bow, where did you learn to shoot?"

"My father taught me," she said quietly, "much to my mother's objections. But she yielded when she saw how happy it made me, to have a reason to spend time with my father. I was seven the first time he guided me through a shot, and I remember the pride on his face when I hit the center, despite the fact that he'd done all the work. He taught to me to read and to write, to shoot and ride, everything. He would always come to my room before bed and every night he would remind me that I was the most important girl in the world, the most special, the most blessed."

"Where was your mother in all of this?" Catlyn asked as she brushed a lock of Sura's hair behind her shoulder, beginning to see the girl a bit more clearly, yet still pieces to the puzzle were missing. She frowned slightly and closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself. Catlyn swore she saw pain sweep over the girl's expression for a heartbeat before it was replaced with sorrow, a look Catlyn was beginning to see all too frequently.

"She died when I was eight, I don't remember how she died, and I can barely remember her. There's only a feeling of sunshine on my skin. My grandfather always says I have her eyes, her smile, and her laugh. I think that might be why my father disappeared for so long after she died, because I was a walking, breathing reminder of her," she let out a shaking breath and that was when Catlyn saw it. Sura was a sixteen year old girl who craved her father's love, not because she'd never had it, but because she was lonely. She'd lost her mother half her life ago and had felt like she'd lost her father too. "I remember when I was thirteen and my grandfather started talking about engagements and alliances, my father grabbed him by his collar and said 'You'll give her to no man of lesser blood'. That's why I'm even here; I was being 'escorted' to the Reach to be appraised by Lord Tyrell, if only I'd refused."

"Sura," Catlyn said softly to the girl, "you can change nothing now. Fate works her hand in strange ways. Know you are safe here, for as long as there is breathe in my body no man here shall harm you. Even before I knew who you were, I was determined to see you to safety."

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Sura asked softly, her eyes falling to her bandaged hands in her lap. "Your husband was imprisoned by my aunt, your daughters are being held captive by her, and you think my uncle tried to murder your son. Why are you protecting me?"

"It was your family that did those things Sura and they may be of your blood, but they're not you. You may be a Lannister, and I can't trust you, but you're also a sixteen year old girl who shouldn't be made to suffer more than she already has. I will warn you though, betray my compassion, and I will no longer offer you my protection. Do you understand?"

"I understand you, Lady Stark," Sura said cooly as reality came crashing back down. For a few blissful moments, Sura had felt free, only to remember where exactly she was. She was a prisoner of Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King who was imprisoned for treason by Sura's aunt, Cersei the brother of the boy who her Uncle Tyrion had supposedly sent an assassin to kill. She was nothing more than a pawn in this war, something to be traded back to her family, and Sura swallowed the bitterness that rose on her tongue. No matter how much kindness they showed her, or how much compassion she was given, she couldn't allow herself to forget the sight of her father, chained and beaten, restrained. She couldn't forget what it felt like to be ripped away from him, unable to reach out to him. Her loyalty was to her blood, and she had to remember that. Her grandfather's voice echoed in her head once more. _You're a Lannister girl, and Lannister's aren't weak. The blood in your veins is more important than gold, remember that. Lannisters repay blood for blood._

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><p>So what do you think? Please let me know in the little link right underneath this, yes yes the one that says review. :D<p>

Is Sura a believable character? How do you think I can improve? Please, I'm dying to hear your thoughts! -falls on hands and knees and begs- PLEASE!_  
><em>


	3. Chapter 3: Waves and Ghosts

A/N: I really like this chapter, not going to lie. There's probably going to be a few errors in here honestly, but I just can't keep it to myself!

**SpanishGirl** I'm thrilled you like it!

**ShineInTheStorm** I can't lie, I love you. I hope this chapter lives up to you're expectations :D

**AlexiaSilver** I spent all day on this chapter because I currently have no life and a TON of muse for this story. In fact, its currently 2:03 am, eastern time, and I just finished my third read through of this...I hope you like this chapter :D

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Three<span>**

**Waves and Ghosts**

This was not what she had expected or prepared herself for. Kind words and hospitality? She was a prisoner of war, not an honored guest. She was grateful for the turn of events, but it made her uneasy. What were they planning for her? Or was it part of their plan to get her to trust Lady Stark and spill her guts to give them an advantage? Frustration reeling her mind as she prowled the length of the tent, pacing to settle her mind. Questions of her situation were quickly edged out by the confusing events of her dreams. Dreams and nightmares, they all had meaning, especially to her. Last night was the first night she'd ever dreamed of the two horses on the ridge, she knew neither beast, nor why they were standing together. It was in this state of mind that Robb Stark found his prisoner when he returned to his tent. He'd taken as long as possible to check on the aftermath of the battle and to make as many arrangements as possible to give his mother time with their captive, but he was dying to get out of his armor.

For a long moment they simply stared at one another, blue eyes locked with pools of aquamarine. Neither broke the silence as a servant fumbled with the straps and latches of the armor, clearly inexperienced in such things. After a moment, she swallowed her pride and waved the servant off, knowing perfectly well how to dismantle a full set of plate armor, which was far more complicated than what Robb Stark was wearing. Not a word passed between them as her nimble finger moved quickly, unbuckling his gorget and spaulders, helping him removed the heavy metal from around his neck and shoulders. She undid the straps of his cuirass, even though it probably wasn't necessary and helped him lift it over his head. Like it or not, she currently owed Robb Stark her life, and a Lannister always pays his debts. They were face to face, mere inches from each other, and she felt the tension charge the air between them. He was taller than her by only a few inches, but his shoulders were broad and she could sense the lean muscle that was hidden beneath his shirt. She turned away, furious at the blush on her cheeks as she began to place the armor on its stand. She refused to think of the angles of his face as handsome, to be drawn into his deep blue eyes and find anything there but the man who held her captive.

"Where did you learn that?" He asked her curiously as he moved to a nearby basin and splashed water on his face, washing away the layer of grime and gore that he'd obtained during the battle as well as the weariness that had settled over him. He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair, all the while his gaze fixated on her. Everything about her appearance spoke Lannister, the blond hair, the dignified way she carried herself, the angle she held her head, but there was something else within her, something he was trying to see beyond the sculpted face and the seductive lines of her body.

"Learn what?" She asked solemnly as she took a rag from a servant and began to clean the layer of grit from the armor. Why not let the servants do this? It was their duty to serve their Lord, not hers. Her mind drifted back to days when she had sat with her father in the armory at Casterly Rock and carefully polished his golden armor, enjoying the sunshine and his smile as he praised her for her hard work. She couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips in remembrance, and then she realized why. It was to keep herself busy, familiar tasks that reminded her of better times seemed to ease the weight of the situation from her mind.

"How to remove a full set of armor."

"That?" Sura spoke lightly as if speaking about nothing more interesting than the weather, her hands moving expertly over the metal, leaving it shiny where it had once been tarnished, "that was nothing. My father's armor takes three times as long to be removed properly."

"So you learned from him?" Robb asked carefully as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, not caring where it landed, welcoming the cold air that caressed his skin. His eyes were trained on the girl who stared intently at the metal in her hands, refusing to look at him. "Learned how to dismantle full sets of armor and kill men?"

"I learned many things from my father, Lord Stark," she said sharply, unable to shield the malice from her voice as her eyes snapped up to meet his. _Lord? _ She mentally scoffed; _he's little more than a boy in his father's armor. _The arrogance and the pride of all Lannisters were painted in the aquamarine depths of her eyes, and he inwardly felt disgust. All Lannisters were the same, her beauty made her no different. For a fraction of a moment their eyes were locked before she turned back to her task, clearly dismissing him in that way all the Lions had. Letting out a breath slowly to keep himself calm, he crossed the room and took hold of her jaw, forcing her to look at him, to meet his gaze.

"You're a curious girl, Lannister, so unlike other Ladies of your stature. But Lions will be Lions I guess, you're no different than any of them," he scoffed, though he could not deny he was surprised when she didn't flinch from his movements or try to run from his touch. Her skin felt like fire against his, and he had to restrain himself from stroking the elegant planes of her face. Her eyes seemed to dare him, taunt him, like she knew his honor would never let him touch her, not like Theon had. Inwardly he was torn, between what was right and just, and what he really wanted. This whole affair or rescuing his father had seriously made his question every decision, ever action, every order and every task, and even now, with the Lannister girl he was torn. Aside from her golden mane he found little similarity between her face and her father's, the line of her jaw was more delicate, her lips fuller, the angle of her nose was sharper, and her eyes were larger, her cheekbones higher. He wanted there to be something different in her something more than just her appearance, yet appearances meant nothing when the inside was as ugly as sin.

"And Wolves will be Wolves," she responded sharply, "you're a Stark; I don't expect you to see the differences." It took all of his self-control not to respond. She set his temper and his blood on fire, provoked the beast that slept inside of him, and to be honest it worried him. Such a girl, delicate and beautiful and angelic in her figure and her ways easily unhinged the mightiest warrior of the seven kingdoms, what could she do to him? She provoked him because in truth, he wanted her to be better than her blood, but it simply wasn't possible. He released her jaw and stepped past her, swallowing his fury as best he could, refusing to let it take hold of him. He needed to clear his head, needed to breathe and think clearly before her poison could corrupt him further, but it was going to be easier said than done. As he submerged himself in the delicious warmth of his bath she took the opportunity to escape. Silently, she swept her sable cloak from atop a chest and slipped away into the morning light unnoticed.

_Sunlight glinted off the ocean water, dancing and twisting and turning with the churning of the waves. The salt was so thick in the air he could taste it on his tongue. The heat of the sun licked at his skin, as welcoming as the embrace of the woman he loved. Her white dress glowed in the sunlight, her flaxen hair billowing about her in the breeze, her laugh carried on high, her smile far brighter than any star in the sky could ever dream of being. He reached out to her, and felt her fingers entwine in his. He ran his other hand through her hair, relishing in its softness. He'd yearned for her touch, died every night he'd slept alone without her, and not even the company of a thousand women could replace a single hour in her company. Her laughter rang in his ears once more, and she pointed past him, glancing over his shoulder surprise washed over him as the big bay horse crashed through the waves, sending a spray of water behind its flashing hooves, its mahogany mane snapping in the wind, biting at the cheek of the child upon its back. She'd always been a daredevil, braver than any of the boys, bareback and in a halter she loped the horse through the water, and he couldn't help the smile that spread upon his face. She made him proud, always, in everything she did. He knew most of what he'd taught her weren't skills she needed, Ladies rarely needed more than sewing, but he knew she was more. After all, she was his pride and joy. Horror washed over him as suddenly the horse stumbled in the water and the child, with hair just like her mother's toppled into the sea. Not thinking, not feeling he relinquished his hold of his wife, her ghost fading like mist in the sunlight as he dashed to the water's edge and waded into the surf, his eyes desperately searching for signs of his litter girl among the waves, fear and desperation clinging to his heart. Where was she?_

"Father?" Cool hands were upon his face, and his eyes fluttered open to see her smile and relief washed over him. For a moment he had trouble discerning which face he looked upon, they were so alike – mother and daughter. He swore that her ghost possessed the girl at times, tormenting him, but then it became clear that that smile was just as it had been that day when he'd pulled her from the waves, coughing and laughing. "It's me."

"Remember when you were eight and you took that horse out into the water?" He asked groggily, attempting to focus on her sculpted face, drawing the lines in his head, trying to pull himself from the dream and separate parent from progeny. "He was too big for you, but you were determined to ride him anyway?"

"When I fell off and you dragged me from the sea?" Her smile came into focus, just as bright and innocent as the day she'd been born, but there was something else at the edge of her lips, sorrow and fear.

"Yes," he said slowly as everything came into focus and the gravity of the situation once more washed over him as he pulled against his shackles, meaning to pull her into his arms. By the Gods she looked just like her mother, bright and beautiful and angelic in the sunlight, a smile to melt the heart and eyes that saw through the soul. Regret hammered in his chest as he thought of all those years he'd abandoned her to his grief. He rid himself of his dream world and sobered to the fact that they were both prisoners, and he had no way of protecting her. His eyes swept over her, attempting to discern any additional damage she may have sustained, his eyes focusing on her wrists. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said with a curt nod as she dabbed at his face with the wet rag she's brought with her, wiping away at the dried blood on his face, worried that untended the wound above his eye might fester. He deserved a better death than sickness, though the thought of him dying made her heart cringe. She needed him, and he needed her. The strength she possessed surprised him, last time he'd seen her she'd been a mess and unable to hold back her tears, now she was clean and the pieces had been pulled back together. Her face was a gentle mask, and he could discern nothing but her concern for him, along with reluctance and uncertainty. "I don't know what to do."

"Be strong Sura, you're your mother's daughter," he said gently as he pulled at his bonds once more, wishing he could brush the bangs from her face and embrace her properly. What if this was the last time he saw her? The last chance he had to say everything to her? Then again, what would he say? Would he apologize? Admit he'd been wrong to abandon her, that he should have been there for her? The wound was still so fresh in his mind; he couldn't bring himself to say more than he already had.

"I'm a Lannister," she said with certainty and pride. "The Starks will pay for this, but only after we get out of this alive."

"That's my girl," he said with a smile. The woman that knelt before him was so different than the wide eyed child he'd raised, her confidence and certainty was a testament to her upbringing, and her strength was a property of her blood. "First, you need to have a plan."

"I could steal the keys from the guards," she said quickly, "they didn't even notice me slip past – we could take two horses and be away to safety tonight, ride to Grandfather's forces and destroy them all by dawn."

"Those are the bones of a plan, child - be patient, wait, and watch. Where is your grandfather? How far away? How many men does Robb Stark command? How well armed and organized are they? Who are his strongest and weakest allies? Gather as much information as you can, and then set it into motion. Think rationally, Lannisters don't act like fools." He saw the genuine smile of amusement that spread across her lips as he repeated the words that Tywin Lannister had said to both Jamie and Sura in their childhood days, though more recently to Sura than to her father. She could be brash and impulsive, but as a captive she needed patience and a cool calculation that few possessed. If only she'd spent more time with Cersei she'd be better equipped for a situation such as this. Jamie knew better though. Sura hated her Aunt, and it was something he couldn't comprehend. As a child she'd adored Cersei, even idolized her but when her mother had passed, her feeling had done a complete spin.

"Lady Stark has guaranteed me her protection, so long as I don't give her cause to distrust me," Sura assured her father, and at least he could find some small shred of comfort in their situation.

"Then you should go, before they notice you're gone and find you here – conspiring with the Kingslayer," he said mockingly, though with an air of reluctance, wishing he could keep her here, make sure she was safe, but what could he do shackled to a stump? At this point, her life was the only thing that mattered to him. He hadn't been there for her mother when she'd needed him, he wasn't about to put himself before his daughter. She nodded and kissed his cheek before she rose to leave, but something struck him suddenly and he called out to her, "the dreams?"

"They've become more complex, more confusing. I can't understand them any more than when I was a child," she admitted after a moment of silence, frustration written on her face. "I'm no closer to the truth."

"Be careful Sura, if they know what you can do," he stopped, knowing better than to voice his concerns. She nodded, and turned to leave. He didn't need to remind her. All her life she'd kept it a secret, only her family knew what she was capable of, knew what she saw in the darkness. Usually she could decipher her dreams, but in the past year they'd become indiscernible. The messages seemed clear enough, but it was the who and where and when that were the variables being left out, the questions that plagued her waking hours. She could save lives with this gift, she'd done it countless times already, and now, when she needed to understand them the most the truth eluded her. Suddenly she turned back to face her father with a fire in her eyes he'd never seen before.

"They won't get away with this, I swear it," she whispered angrily before she retreated, the breeze picking up again. She looked back one more time before disappearing back into the Stark camp and Jamie Lannister was left with the ghosts of his memories to haunt him and torment him. She wasn't a child anymore, and he struggled to see her as anything other than that. His daughter, the sweet, beautiful, innocent little girl who'd been warped by fate and made hollow by the death of her mother, what would war do to her? Guilt washed over him again as he thought of the years she'd been without him. Would death put an end to his guilt? Would it stop the terrors of his mistakes from washing over him? To all those who looked upon him he was strong, unbreakable, and like a fool he'd shown his only weakness to the very people who would manipulate it the best. By reacting as he had, he'd probably put her in more danger, made her an absolute target for the conniving Starks, and there was nothing he could do to change that fact. The only thing that could break him was making her way back into the wolf's den, and all he could do was pray.


	4. Chapter 4: Nothing but Coincidence

AUTHORS NOTE TIME AGAIN! A huge thank you to everyone who's been reading, favoriting and reviewing my baby here :D

Sorry this chapter is a bit short, but it accomplishes everything I wanted it to...as well as it should leave you satisfied, albeit wondering just whats going to happen next for Sura, Jamie and Robb.

**ShineInTheStorm** Just wait, things get really good in this chapter and the next. :P

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Four<span>**

**Nothing but Coincidence**

"I'm going to have to put you in irons if you keep sneaking off," Robb said nonchalantly, his boots propped up on a table, his eyes locked and blazing on Sura as she re-entered his tent. At first, she'd looked like the cat that had gotten the cream, but her expression had disappeared when she'd discovered the young Lord waiting for her, instead donning a cool mask of indifference. She couldn't have been gone for more than twenty minutes, and she couldn't hide the flicker of surprise that crossed her eyes when she saw him. "please don't treat me like I'm stupid. You're _my_ prisoner in _my_ camp and you're only alive because of _my_ mercy."

"But I'm worth so much to you alive," she said carefully, refusing to back down from his stare, "or do you really think the Queen will give you everything just to get my father back? He's worth more than twice you're house – a traitor for a Kingslayer? Sounds like a bad deal to me." Robb couldn't stop himself from bolting to his feet, knocking back his chair as he stood, anger flashing before his eyes. How dare she speak of his father like that? She didn't even know him! Amusement dance in her viridian eyes, taunting him far more than her words could. She crossed her arms over her chest and strode across the room as if she owned it. "So the Wolf is easy to rise."

"You mistake me," he said angrily, and in a few short strides he crossed the room and took her throat in his hands, forcing her back against the table. Internally he was stunned at his own actions, but he was powerless to stop the rage she'd provoked, "you are nothing to me, you only breath because of my mercy – " as if to prove his point he squeezed, cutting off her airway. Her eyes went wide, though taunting amusement still glowed within their depths. She didn't try to struggle against him, she was too busy balancing on the edge of the table, one hand grasping at his wrist, the other clutching the edge of the table for support, "– you think because you're a Lannister you can speak to me however you wish? Look around you, your family has no power here; your family cannot save you."

"Then do it," she struggled to say as spots passed before her eyes. Despite her expression, mentally she was panicking. His eyes had gone dark, full of rage and hate. They only hated each other because of their families – and truth be told Sura only hated the Starks because she'd been raised to hate them. She'd been told Ned Stark was a traitor who'd conspired to steal the throne from her cousin and the Queen Regent; that even as his best friend had lain dying he'd plotted and conspired for the Iron Throne. She searched within his eyes for the anything other than hate, and found none of the compassion he'd shown her previously. She'd lost control of the situation, and she somehow had to regain the upper hand. "If I am nothing kill me now and save someone else the trouble."

Growling, Robb released her and stepped away, absolutely livid that she could do this to him. Sura gulped in air and ran her hands over her throat, the marks bright red on her porcelain skin. He knew they needed her alive, and tomorrow in council the Lords would call for her blood, and he was struggling to find a reason why he should defend her. They would no doubt question his treatment of her and why he'd been so lenient towards her – save her beauty he could find no other reason. Snatching his cloak, he moved to leave the tent, needing the cold air to cleanse him, to wash away her poison that filled his mind and clouded his judgment. Just as he was about to leave, he paused, unwilling to let her have the last word and feel as if she'd outfoxed him.

"You'll stay here for tonight, tomorrow we decide your fate and more suitable quarters will be arranged. Should you speak or act as you have today I'll see you in chains as far away from you father as possible. My guards will be given instructions to prevent you from leaving, by force if necessary. Do not test my mercy again Lannister, or you shall find none."

II

Sleep danced on the edge of her mind, and despite her exhaustion she couldn't seem to fully embrace it. The day had been longer than any other she could remember, and she replayed it over and over in her mind, reliving the horror she'd found herself in. The camp had long since fallen silent, and the crackle of the fire was all she heard as she lay on her side, the pillows beneath her shifting noiselessly. Robb hadn't returned until after sun down, and they had said nothing to one another as servants had assembled the pallet she was to sleep on. She watched Robb's sleeping form from across the room, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that told her he was completely asleep. The eyes of his dire wolf glinted in the firelight as it stared at her, weary of her presence and aware of the threat she might possess to his master. She'd expected to be chained, yet she'd simply been told to behave herself – the threat clear within the warning. Her gaze slid from Robb to the knife that hung from the edge of his bed, knowing how easy it would be to sneak across the room and end his life. As if it sensed her train of through the wolf gave a low warning growl, its white teeth glinting in the orange glow of the fire. She knew without a doubt she'd be dead before she even had a chance to finish her task, besides, she was no assassin. She rolled over as a cool wind kicked up the edge of the tent, determined to get some rest, and sleep slowly seeped into her consciousness.

_Sura_, it was like the whisper of the breeze across the shores of Casterly Rock, warm and familiar like sunlight on her skin. She found her feet buried in the sand, the roar of the sea in her ears, the sun on her skin, and the wind playing with her golden hair tossing it about like ribbons. She shaded her eyes against the sun and caught sight of two figures not far from her on the shoreline. One was a little boy between the ages of four and five, his laughter carried to her on the breeze and her heart swelled with love and joy that were so unlike anything she'd ever felt that she knew for certain her chest would burst, his curly brown hair and brilliant blue eyes coming to her mind sharper than any picture she'd ever seen, his smile forcing one of her own. She knew the man crouched beside the boy with his back to her was the little boy's father – and more surely than anything else she knew she loved him. His feet were bare and his pants were rolled up his calves, he laughed as the little boy dashed in and out of the surf, giggling gleefully as the sea foam tickled his toes. Despite the fact she didn't know who she was looking at, she knew she loved and adored both of them. The little boy looked in her direction, squealed in glee and waved to her just as the wind kicked up. To her horror, the strings of sand that were thrown into the air suddenly shifted and began to turn to smoke and the edges of the world was beginning to fade from her vision.

A fear unlike any she'd ever known swelled within her as she gathered her skirt in one hand and raced along the dunes, desperate to beat the sands to the little boy as everything began to dissolve into darkness. He reached out to her, and just as she reached him, her fingers locking on him, he dissolved into nothing. She turned to face the man she knew was his father, and as she turned the darkness shifted, becoming a place far from the warm sandy beaches of Casterly Rock. A dusting of snow covered the ground, fires crackled in burners, soldiers huddled around them as row after row after row of tents filled her vision. She was standing back in the army camp, and the man who'd been dressed in nothing but a loose shirt and rolled up pants now donned a long black fur cloak, she could see the glint of armor on his shoulders. His back was to her as he adjusted the saddle on his horse, pure white and dressed in livery of alabaster and ash. She had seen that horse before. He turned to face her, but whatever words were about to leave his lips were vanquished by the sudden cry of pain he gave as his knees buckled and he fell at her feet, the knife sticking out of his back. Stunned, Sura didn't know what to do, there was nothing she could do. The blood was pooling around her feet, she moved to avoid it, terrified by what she'd seen, but the shock on her face turned to horror as the man's body began to swell and shift its shape until it became a dire wolf, lying in the dirt and the knife in its back became an antler in its throat. The wolf had been killed by the stag. _Sura, run._

She sat bolt upright, shaking and drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for breath as she tried to steady her racing heart. A sharp whine brought her focus back to reality as the image of the monster wolf gave way to the interior of the tent, her prison cell, and the smaller wolf whose head was nestled in her lap. His honey colored eyes stared up at her, his tail wagging sympathetically when she noticed him. With a visibly shaking hand she reached out and stroked his head, brow to neck and he huffed happily in her lap, leaning his head to lick her bandaged wrist. She felt herself calming as she gazed only at the wolf who closed his eyes contently at her touch, she jumped suddenly though as a voice broke through her still racing mind. "Nightmare?"

"Yes," she said shakily, brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear as she looked up at Robb Stark. He sat on the floor, his back against his bed, knees bent, arms resting on his knees as he looked at her curiously. His gaze was softer than she'd seen it all day, and whatever animosity had existed between them seemed vanquished in this moment. Here and now, they were just simply two people. She looked away from him in embarrassment. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"Grey Wind actually woke me, I was having the strangest dream," his brow wrinkled as he knit his eyebrows in confusion, like he was reliving his own dream in his mind before he shook his head and turned his attention back to her. "He seemed to be worried about you, like he knew. He's usually weary of strangers, but you didn't stop tossing and turning until he put his head on you."

"What did you dream of?" She asked quickly, attempting to turn the focus off of herself. She had to figure out a way to play off her nightmare, and she had to hope that if she fell back asleep it didn't return. The last thing she needed was Robb Stark asking her meticulous questions. She had to keep her secret safe, whatever the cost.

"It was the strangest thing; I was standing on a beach – or what I imagine a beach would look like – there was salt in the air and a roaring in my ears that I could only guess was the sea. There was a little boy, I don't think any older than five, and he was laughing, playing in the sand. I looked out across the dunes to where he suddenly pointed and saw a woman dressed in white, but as I turned to her, I was suddenly in camp and I was falling, like I no longer had the strength to hold myself up. That's when Gray Wind woke me," he said, staring at his hands as he elaborated on his dream as if he could grasp it. Sura had to keep the horror out of her expression. Could it be possible? Could they really have had the same dream, but from opposite perspectives? Her eyes darted to the chest that contained her things, the chest that had been taken from her tent back in her father's camp. The book would have answers, but she couldn't possibly take it out now, not when he could see its hiding place. If anything could explain this, the book could. Maybe it was just a coincidence, it had to be. She swallowed back her horror and continued to stare at Gray Wind's head, meticulously stroking the patter on the top of his head. "What about you?"

"I…" she had to decide whether or not she was going to tell him the truth. Would he be suspicious? She could lie and protect her secret, but what if this dream was like all the others? It couldn't be. It was just a coincidence! She closed her eyes and bit her lip, torn between what was right and what was necessary.

"It's alright," he said gently, "you don't have to say anything if you don't want to. You grew up by the sea Sura, what's it like?"

"Well," she stammered, taken completely off guard by the question, but relieved that he hadn't pressed her for more information. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine home once more, without the countless memories that left a bitter taste in her mouth, "the water changes color depending on the weather and the sunlight. On a clear day it's a deep blue, darker than your eyes, but when you stand in the water it's completely clear. When the sky is overcast it can be a dark greenish-gray, and when it's stormy the water turns darker than your wolf's fur. It stretches out as far as the eyes can see, reaching the edge of the world. After my mother died I stopped swimming, but I remember how my father wouldn't let me go too far, saying the currents grew too strong for me to swim against. Usually the sea is fairly calm, the tide coming in and out in waves, the water foaming as it reaches the sand before receding back. When the winds pick up, so do the waves. They can become violent in storms, crashing against the rocks and roaring like a beast. I remember when Thomas, one of my friends was pulled out to sea in a storm, I can still remember him screaming, growing farther and farther away, his cries getting weaker and weaker. It's a beautiful thing, the ocean, but as changeable and dangerous as any force of nature."

"I'm sorry," Robb said quietly, moments after she'd finish talking, her eyes met his, and she could tell he was genuine in his apology. And he wasn't just apologizing for her friend's death, but for everything. For the entire situation she'd been put in. She looked away, pride begging her to lash out at him, gratitude pleading for it to stop.

"As am I," She responded quietly as she lay back on her pillows, not knowing what else to say and simply wanting the pain in her chest to disappear. His apology had actually hurt more than it had helped, because it was genuine. Robb meant what he said as, he was sorry. Sorry she'd been put through all of this. When he'd left before with his rage still on the tip of his tongue, he'd rooted out his mother, who'd been quick to inform him of everything Sura had said. Now, he looked at her with a clearer understanding. She'd been a child when she'd lost her mother, and overcome with grief her father had abandoned her. From what he understood, her father had only recently returned to her, and now here she was; terrified for her life as well as her fathers. As he climbed back onto his bed, Robb realized that this was the first conversation they'd had where neither one had been condescending to the other, and it had been the first time they'd spoken and he hadn't wanted to tear her to pieces. Was it possible that underneath the pride and the arrogance she was just like him? He'd started to drift back to sleep when her voice reached him, hushed, as if she were already half asleep herself.

"Dreams have meaning you know."

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><p>Welll...what did you think? The button is just below, go ahead, click it, I promise that its totally pain free!<p> 


	5. Chapter 5: Loyalties

AUTHORS NOTE TIME! Okay, so now we get to some juicy business! I highly enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. Hopefully it has a good flow to it towards the ending parts ;D no that winky face does not entitle you to a fangirl squeal...

**AlexiaSilver** here's another one for you. Looks like I didn't quite get a chapter out for 10/19, but it gave you that day to catch up! Lol. For the record it happens to be 12:17 here...

**ShineInTheStorm** I'm glad you like the different light I give Jamie - I was tired of his total bad guy angle, though I promise it doesn't last too long. And I always get so disappointed at puppy-love stories. Especially when its a Robb/LannisterOC fic. They're raised to hate each other, why not play with it a bit ;D I won't spoil my fun, but I'm sure you'll be happy with the chapter AFTER this one. I'm sorry you didn't get your 10/19 fix, maybe I'll give you a double dose on 10/20. As for the little guy...well...we'll see his meaning eventually.

**Liss1223** Thank you so much for you're awesome review! I adore my Suriekinz and can't wait for her and Robbie to stop fighting and be happy, but it would be totally against human nature to automatically make them fall in love! Its all about the journey, even if you might be able to guess the ending. I feel my job as a fanfiction author is to make you look at the characters differently - like our lovely Jamers! Enjoy the journey, here's another dose for you :D

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Five<span>**

**Loyalties**

Sunlight dappled to top of the tent and song birds chimed in the chilly morning air as Sura returned to awareness. She slowly stirred, relishing in the warmth of the soft fur blanket she'd been given. A smile played on her lips as she awoke to a pair of gentle caramel eyes staring down at her. Grey Wind lay beside her, his head on her chest, and as she came to his tail began to wag. She yawned and stretched, forcing him to shift his position before she scratched behind his ears, thankful not to wake completely alone. Her smile fell from her lips though, as his eyes changed. No longer were they the color of honey, but blue and round, like a human's. She shut her eyes – it had to be the light playing tricks on her, but behind her eyelids images of the capital flashed. People filled the square, calling out for blood. The Queen and her son flashed in her mind, a pretty auburn haired girl stood with them in the sunlight. A silver sword seemed to glitter. There was a cry and then blood, so much blood. _Black of hair, black of hair, Robert Baratheon, black of hair, Joffrey Baratheon, blond of hair._

Her eyes snapped open and she lay perfectly still, she was on her back staring up at the tent's slanting ceiling. Beside her was Grey Wind who released a worried whine and gently nudged her with his nose. Groaning, her head pounding Sura slowly sat up. Moments ago she'd felt incredibly well rested, and now she felt completely drained. She couldn't stop the tears. A servant entered the tent and she quickly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, forcing a smile as the girl helped her up. She felt sick to her stomach as she picked at the platter of food that had been brought to her, her appetite escaping. Once the servant was gone, Sura quickly stole over to her chest and lifted the lid, shoving aside the stack mass of gowns that occupied it until she came to the bottom, which she clawed at, breaking a few nails as she dislodged the hiding and withdrew the old, leather bound volume it concealed. Certain that she was alone Sura sank to the ground, flipping quickly through the pages as she searched for evidence to support her suspicions.

"It's not possible," she breathed in wide eyed amazement as her eyes scanned the page she'd found, her suspicions becoming confirmed by the writing that was older than her grandfather. She snapped the book shut, extremely aware of the hustle and bustle outside in the camp, after a moment, she gingerly placed the book in its hiding place. She traced the delicate writing on the cover and felt an acute longing stab at her chest – the book had been a gift from her mother; her mother who had been betrayed in life and in death. The fire of rage reignited itself, and Sura swept up her cloak, donning it as she exited the tent. The burly guard from yesterday – Rowan - hurried to his feet, and she held up her hand to stop the words that sprang to his lips.

"Take me to my father," she commanded, and he looked at her curiously. She knew she really had no right to be giving orders here, but this couldn't wait. Her pride roared in her chest, refusing to ask _permission_ to see her own father. "All I ask for is five minutes, and then you can bring me back." Grumbling, he obliged her, and she quickly fell in step beside him as he led the way. Her mind was racing, and she had no idea what exactly she was going to say, but she needed to know, needed to be sure. She needed the truth. Jamie was in the same state she'd found him in yesterday, chained and half-conscious. He smiled when he caught sight of her, thankful that she'd survived the night looking no worse for ware, but that smile fell when he saw the expression on her face.

"If you ever loved my mother," she said slowly and carefully, the emotion thick in her shaking voice, the tears threatening behind her eyes, "you will be honest and true with me now. Is Joffrey the son of the King?"

"Why?" Jamie asked quickly, take completely off guard, his eyes widening with shock, surprise and Sura could have sworn she saw fear. Jamie then realized he had never properly sized up his daughter, she was sharper than a knife, missing nothing, and she was indeed her mother's daughter. He could see the burning in her eyes and guilt washed over him. How had she found out? How could she have possibly guessed anything? If he told her the truth she'd hate him forever, but if he lied to her he would never be able to forgive himself. Was he seriously thinking of lying to his only child? To a child who could see things no one else ever could. Or maybe the Starks had said something; maybe Ned Stark had gotten word to his family. They had told her so that she would turn against him, and he opened his mouth to dissuade her, to tell her that they were lying, simply trying to tear them apart.

"Don't you even think of lying to me!" The fury in her voice was hushed, but the fire in her eyes burned brighter than a star, "Be honest father, is he the son of the king? Answer me!"

"No," he swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. He couldn't lie to her, not to that face. He'd spent half of her life lying and pretending, he couldn't do it now. He didn't have the strength to hold up the charade any longer. Disgust and horror mixed on Sura's face as reality hit her like an arrow in the chest: Joffrey was not only her cousin, but her brother. That was why Ned Stark had been called a traitor, because the lecherous Queen knew he'd found out her secret and he was going to take everything from her. And why not? She'd taken everything from everyone else. The tears swelled and finally a few broke free.

"How could you? My mother loved you and adored you, and all the time you were fucking your sister?" Sura said, her voice shaking, "you disgust me. You are no father of mine."

"You can't possibly understand Sura!" Jamie returned, his own ager flared at her accusations – though they were not unfounded.

"I don't wish to," Sura snapped with finality as she pulled the fur of her cloak tighter around her neck and spun on her heel, leaving her father staring after her. He roared her name several times, and though tears threatened her eyes and a sob lingered in her throat, she would not break in front of lesser men. She walked with Rowan back to Robb's tent, her head held high with all the dignity and pride of a Lannister that she could muster. Her grandfather's voice echoing in the back of her mind, _Never let them see you break. Lannister's aren't weak. Are you a Lannister?_ Rowan took his post once more, and Sura barely made it inside when her legs gave way. She stumbled and grabbed at the edge of the table to hold herself up. Tears blurred her vision as she sank to the floor. As she sat there, shaking and sobbing, memories that she had locked away resurfaced. One in particular was as sharp and clear as the day it had happened.

She'd been sitting on a bench in the courtyard of Casterly Rock beside her mother. Sura had thought she'd forgotten what her mother had looked like, but in reality, it was like looking in a mirror. She and her mother had the same shape of face, same eyes, same nose, same mouth; the only difference was their hair. Sura's was far more golden, the only gift of her Lannister blood beside her height. She'd always been tall for her age, and her mother had always commented on how beautiful she was going to be. Pain stuck in Sura's chest as she remembered this day, her mother taking her jaw lightly in her hand and kissing her forehead. "Remember, my darling, never trust men, for they will never trust you."

"What do you mean momma?" She had asked staring wide eyed and innocent at her mother. It had been only a week or so before the woman had died, which was probably why Sura had blocked the memory for so long.

"Men will tell you everything you want to hear, they will pour honey in your ear and kiss poison to your lips. Men lie, Sura, and we must sit by silent while they do so. Keep your secret – our secret – safe, because men will seek to control you, to use you, and they will never trust you. Do you understand me darling?"

Back then, she hadn't, but now she did. She pulled her knees to her chest and stared at nothing in particular. Her mother had known all along about Jamie and Cersei, and it had been her duty as his wife to sit by and say nothing. Had she been disgusted by him, revolted or had she simply accepted it? How had she felt to know that her husband, who in all appearances she loved and adored, was sleeping with his sister? Sura also knew why her mother had died, she'd seen it, just as clearly as the vision she'd had that morning, and now it made sense. She had died because of Cersei's secret, and because of her secret, the very secret that had shown Sura the death of the Hand of the King. Dread welled in her chest. If Ned Stark was going to be killed by her monstrous brother-cousin, what was going to happen to her and her father? Robb would only trade Jamie for Ned, so what would happen when Ned died? Why would Cersei allow Joffrey to do such a thing?

Then horrific realization crossed Sura's mind as she realized one of two things was happening – either Joffrey had gone against his mother's decision to grant Ned Stark his life, or she had no idea that her niece and her lover were in the enemy's hands. Her eyes snapped up as the tawny haired ruffian who'd originally spared her life entered the tent, the wolfish smile toying at the edges of his lips, Sura's cheek burned as she remembered the force of his hand upon her face, and fury replaced the uncertainty, fear, pain and anguish in her eyes. She rose to her full height swiftly and stared him down, but his gaze didn't hold hers for long. His eyes slid over her form, which was only slightly displayed in the gown she wore. He started with her slightly exposed shoulders, his gaze slithered to her collarbone and then to the taut fabric that displayed curve of her breasts, migrating to her thin waist before it slid over the width of her hips.

"Did you come to appraise me like a horse, or do you need something of me?" Sura said bitterly, narrowing her eyes as she folded her arms across her chest, disgusted at the pig that stood before her. He looked to be about her age, maybe a little older - though from the way he had been drinking in her appearance she knew he was far more experienced than his years.

"Oh I want many things from you," he said lustily as he approached her, stretching to his full height, rolling his shoulders to express how broad his chest was, how much bigger and strong he was. It was probably how he got off, dominating a woman, she did not back down however as he stepped closer to her. He moved a chunk of her gently curving golden hair behind her shoulder, brushing his fingers behind her ear and down her neck. She recoiled from his touch in disgust, but he grabbed her shoulder, holding her firmly in place. With his lips by her ear he whispered to her, "If it weren't for Robb's fascination with you, Lannister, I would have you already."

He caught her wrist as she spun to strike him, outraged by his lecherous tongue. He squeezed her wrist in an attempt to make her flinch and submit to him, something he probably fantasized about, but she stood her ground, gritting her teeth to combat the biting pain. Who did he think he was? No one spoke to her like that, no living being ever uttered such fallacies to her or laid a hand upon her in such a way. "Unhand me, boy."

"I'm no boy," he snapped, clearly she'd struck a nerve. He was easy to provoke, just like any other man she'd seen in this camp, which in turn made him a very dangerous opponent. "Address me properly, and I just might. I'm the heir to the Iron Islands; even a Lannister should know that."

"You would have me address you as your father's son?" Sura scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. You may be the son of the Lord Greyjoy, but being the Stark's…ward is it? Does not give you the honor of being called Lord. Now, you didn't come to exchange pleasantries and fantasies with me, did you? "

"You're summoned to the Council for sentencing, I'm to escort you," he said, the muscle in his jaw jumping. It was obvious he was enjoying this, though he seemed frustrated that she'd pointed out his upbringing. Did he really think he had any claim to his father's seat? The Greyjoy's were sea folk, and he'd been raised on land. Did he even remember the taste of salt on his tongue or the sea breeze on his face? Did he remember what it was like to run along the surf and feel the sand between his toes, burning his feet in the midday's sun? She highly doubted it.

"Ask me properly, and maybe I won't put up a fight," she said softly, forcing him to listen closely as she drew out the words, curving each with her tongue, looking up at him through her eyelashes. For a second he faltered and she was able to remove her arm form his grasp. She traced her finger along his jaw before lashing out, leaving a red imprint on his skin. He hadn't expected the impact, it had taken him completely off guard and he stretched out his jaw to combat the sudden pain, eyes blazing. She went to brush past him, but paused with her lips beside his ears. "Never forget who I am, prisoner or not."

**II**

Stern, battle worn faces glared at her from within the tent that stood as their council chamber. She could see the hatred that burned in all of their eyes as she stood before them, the Greyjoy boy standing behind her, arms crossed over his chest as he attempted to play off the red mark on his cheek. Many of them were wearing their armor, as if they expected to march into battle at any moment, or perhaps they were afraid that the lioness would attack them? The thought amused her as she moved her eyes to Robb Stark who stood at the head of the table, tall and striking, his expression serious. She could see compassion in his eyes, their conversation the night before had changed their relationship only slightly, giving them a better understanding of one another. Perhaps it might have just barely saved her life. She could see outright anger and hatred on a handful of faces, and she knew that those men disagreed with their leader's decision, whatever that was. Lady Stark stood not far from her son's side, and she sent Sura a slight smile from across the room – most likely reminding her to stay strong.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Lannister?" A grizzled gray haired man asked. He stood on Robb's left hand side, his dark eyes glaring accusingly at her.

"If you deem me guilty by association of blood than I accept your judgment," she said with an air of indifference, remembering how her Grandfather had taught her to behave in the presence of those who would see her dead. She could feel the tension in the air as if it were a physical being, breathing down her neck.

"So you claim innocence on the murders of my men?" A brown haired man said from the right side of the room.

"My Lords," she began, her eyes slowly sweeping the room as she took control pulling their attention to her, "how many of you have daughters? If she knew how to defend herself, would you tell her not to? Would you tell her to do nothing and allow herself to be brutalized and raped? I think not. This is war – women are not treated as graciously as I have been. "

"I say we kill the bitch!" A voice called out, her eyes remained focused on Robb.

"We need her father, not her!" Another shouted.

"Let the men have her, teach the bitch a bit of respect for her betters," a big man with scarred arms and sandy hair said just to the side of her.

"Enough!" Robb said, bringing order back to his proceedings. "We are not animals, and this is my army. Lady Sura Lannister you will remain a prisoner in this camp under my protection until terms of your release are negotiated with the Queen. Do you accept this judgment?"

"I do," she said and a murmur went up in the tent – apparently they hadn't expected that, "but under one condition."

Absolute silence gripped the tent as they stared at her.

"Upon my release I am to be given into the custody of my Grandfather – Lord Tywin. Should the Queen object to such terms I would beg you to refuse her." She had to swallow her pride to even say the word beg; for a Lannister to even think of pleading was a disgrace and she felt like she'd betrayed herself by even saying the word.

"Why should I agree to this?" Robb asked as he leaned against the table, his hands out before him. His sapphire eyes burned as he looked at her and she looked back at him. "You know my camp, my forces and my allies. Why would I hand you to the opposing General?"

"Because Lord Tywin is the only one who has granted me full protection, other than you. Cersei Lannister is no Queen of mine," the bitterness could not be withheld from her voice and she could feel the shock in the room, but her eyes were locked on Robb, "she would sooner see me dead than walk out of this camp alive. I will not be given into the hands of a murder."

"Whom has the Queen killed, girl?" The gray haired man said, pulling her gaze from Robb. "As far as I know it's your father whose done all the killing." The tent grumbled in agreement.

"My mother – Nyra Tyrell was her first victim, and Lord John Arryn the former Hand of the King was her second," her voice steadily had to rise as the volume in the tent rose, "And, by her orders, the entire house of Stark is to be destroyed – even the bastard Jon Snow." Outrage spread through the tent as those that were sitting jumped to their feet, pounding the fists on the table, voicing their anger.

"How do you know this?" The sandy haired man asked in a deep growl.

"What do you think I did in my father's camp? Sewing? I'm the Granddaughter of the best strategist in the Seven Kingdoms and daughter of the Kingslayer, I wasn't left out."

"Very well," Robb said, once more having to bring his council to order, "You will be given into the hands of Lord Tywin should the Queen agree."

"Thank you, my Lord," she said honestly as she bowed her head slightly before gathering the skirt of her gown and turning to leave.

"Do you not wish to hear your father's fate?" Robb called after her curiously, and she paused. Did she? Part of her loved him still – the memories of how kind and loving he had been to her, of how he had carried her and cradled her as a child, but part of her was deeply wounded by his incestuous infidelity to her mother. Duty and honor bid her to stay and listen, though pride did not. Glancing over her shoulder, she responded.

"His fate is his own."

"Damn these Lions! So quick to betray one another," the gray haired fool said, and Sura spun, her eyes blazing so fiercely half of them recoiled and fingers danced on the hilts of their blades as they felt her fury.

"We turn our backs on those who betrayed us first!" She seethed, malice and anger roaring through her like a forest fire, "We shed blood for blood, but not for those that would see their families bleed first. My loyalties are to my family, or those I still count among it." With that she spun and escorted herself from the tent, Rowan quickly appearing beside her. She watched as soldiers slowly rose to their feet as she walked past, some of them allowed their eyes to slide over her just as Greyjoy had done while others simply stared at her; the Lannister captive, every bit as graceful and beautiful as they had heard, yet far more dangerous than they could even begin to imagine.

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><p>TADA! Here it is, another installment of this story that I really freaking love to write...please review my pets! I love to read what you all have to write, it pretty much makes my night half the time. Maybe a few of you got you're dirty little Theon fix in this one, perhaps if you ask nicely I can give you a little more, hmmmmmmmm? I promise some good SuraRobbness in a bit, but where's the fun in giving it to you right away? Keep reading, it gets good...


	6. Chapter 6: Stripped

HO HO! So it looks like most of my usual customers haven't even checked out chapter five yet! I actually wrote this right after I posted chapter five. Its a bit short, but its pretty important, there's quite a bit of meat in this here 2,500 words, so get pumped!

**BiteMeYouSuck **here's another one for you, hope you keep loving it. I still love your name :P

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Six<span>**

**Stripped**

"What did you mean back there?" Robb asked as he burst into the tent moments after sun down. She recovered quickly though, knowing all too well that he would question her the moment he was in her presence, who wouldn't? She had spent the entire afternoon trying to figure out what she would say, she knew how it looked. One moment she'd defended her father, stood by him, and the next she had turned on him. She didn't expect anyone to understand her sudden change – and she wasn't going to openly admit anything.

"What do you refer to?" She asked coolly over her shoulder, already knowing but hoping that she could deflect him.

"What you said to the Council about your family? About the Queen?" He stepped forward quickly, grasping the back of her arm to hold her still, to prevent her from running.

"Concern yourself with you pack and I'll concern myself with my Pride," she said bitterly, pushing him away verbally. She yearned to tell him, to explain everything to him, but she knew she couldn't. She needed him to stay away from her, she needed to keep him as far from the truth as she possibly could. "The wolves need not stick their noses in the Lion's business."

"Cryptic metaphors will not keep you from explaining," he growled as he spun her around. She was provoking him again, and he knew it was on purpose. Those aquamarine eyes were devoid of the arrogance and the taunting that usually accompanied her words, she was hiding something from him, and she wasn't going to escape him without answering. He forcefully grasped her shoulders. "I command you to tell me your meaning."

"You? Command me?" She scoffed, forcing arrogance and pride into her voice as anger flared within her eyes. "Look in the mirror Stark, where do you have the right to command anything of me? I'm a daughter of the house Lannister and house Tyrell. Last I checked both stood far above what you would call a house."

"You said the Queen wants to destroy my house," anger was bright in his eyes, but fear as well. Who wouldn't be afraid to know that the royal family was out to destroy everything you held dear? "You will tell me everything you know now, or you will suffer for your secrecy."

"Go ahead," she goaded him, though the tears burned at the edges of her eyes. She had done enough crying, she wasn't going to break down in front of him again, Robb Stark wasn't worthy of seeing anything but her armor. "There is nothing you can take from me that has not already been taken. You would think to frighten me? Once the Kingdoms know what I know everything will fall to pieces. I will never marry and I shall remain hidden away as I have been my whole life. When they know the Queen's shame she will fall and when my Grandfather dies my life will be forfeit. So tell me Stark, how else can I suffer? My life is without purpose or meaning – what could you possibly take from me?"

"Secrets and silver tongues that's all you Lannisters are made of." He said in disgust as he pushed her away, forcing her to take several steps back and he turned away from her and swept a horn from the table, he needed a drink to steady his nerves before she broke them again.

"Do you think I asked for this?" She nearly shouted, "To be born into a family where lies, deceit and intrigue are the only ways to live? When you have to use threats and bribery to get honesty from your own father and you have to forge allies among your own bloodline to survive? My own mother was murdered by her husband's sister because of her secrets!"

"You were eight, how could you possibly know?" He returned accusingly.

"Because I saw it!" She regretted the words the moment they were off her tongue, her pain and anguish had broken her self-control and common sense, she had to fix this.

"If you were there," he said slowly, turning to look at her with narrowed eyes, "if you truly saw it with your own eyes, then how is it possible you stand before me now?"

"I was good at hiding," she covered, her voice shaking as she took a step back, wanting to escape. She felt trapped, he was on the doorstep of truth, but knew nothing. There was no way he could get her to reveal the truth, he had nothing to hold against her.

"Yet again, proof a Lannister only knows how to lie," he sighed, taking another swig of ale before he tossed a worn leather bound book onto the table. Sura gazed at it in horror. "Did you think it wouldn't be found? I had a servant check your things after Theon was sent to summon you. What else have you seen?"

"Do you really think I'd tell you?" The emotion was heavy in her shaking voice as she looked at the ground, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Her secret was out in the open, he knew, and there was no way she could possibly fix this, no way. "This burden is my own – I will not shatter today's beauty over tomorrow's blood."

"Is that why Cersei killed your mother? Was she a seer too?" He asked intently as he circled around the table and approached her, curiosity and authority in his voice.

"Yes." She responded quietly.

"And you saw your mother's death?"

"Yes." Another tear fell.

"When? Before it happened? Or after?"

"During." She closed her eyes wishing this would all go away. She didn't want to answer any more questions, didn't want to see the curiosity turn sinister in the depths of his sapphire eyes. "It was my first vision, and I was standing on the beach just watching her die, powerless and helpless to stop it. That's how this works, upon death the power transfers to the firstborn."

"Who else have you watched die?" His voice turned darker.

"People I know and don't know, but when I see their faces still bright and full of life I have not the heart to tell them," her voice broke; she had nothing left to hide. "As a child I warned those I saw die, trying to save them, but Ben wanted to prove me wrong and he drowned because of it. Lana didn't believe me; her body was found the next day. No one trusts a Seer, no one believes a Seer."

"If you know when people are going to die you could save them!" He grabbed her shoulders again, forcing her to look at him, look into his deep blue eyes and see how intently they burned.

"Were you not listening?" She said imploringly as she looking into those eyes, "I tried! No one listened, no one ever listens! Besides, I cannot change fate. That's the first rule – you can't cheat death. To save a person's life once isn't enough. You spend the rest of your lifetime saving them from certain death and you go insane trying to keep them safe."

"Is that what your book tells you?" He said accusingly, and she looked away, more tears sliding from her eyes.

"Yes."

"Have you tested it? Seen if there is merit to this rule of yours?" She knew what he was doing, but there was no point in arguing, she didn't have the heart to do it, she didn't have the heart to fight. Her only true purpose had been to keep her secret safe and she couldn't even accomplish that.

"No."

"Then how can you be sure?" He spat as he released her once more, turning back to the table, taking another gulp of his drink, feeling it burn his throat as he tried to stay in control of the beast that was stretching inside him. How could she possibly know if she could save someone or not if she hadn't tried? She could see death and Gods knew what else! He'd been taught that every man makes his own fate. That the gods give you the tools to survive and it's up to every man to use them to his advantage or downfall. Certainly there were some things that could not be avoided, like fever and old age, but drowning? Murder? Those were all things that could be avoided and prevented. She could save countless lives, yet she seemed to have given up trying.

"Would you take me seriously if I told you where, when and how you were going to die?" She asked quietly, and inwardly Robb knew she was right.. "You'd think me crazy and laugh in my face."

He felt his lip twitch at the malice in her voice, the beast inside him opening its jaws and willing him to release his fury, to take out his anger on her again. It had felt incredible last night to see the fear in her eyes, to know he had absolute control of her and it didn't matter if she was a Lannister or a bastard, she was just a woman who bled like all the rest. He refused to let himself succumb to that rage again, refused to let himself be that monster. He was better than that, so much better.

"Everyone who knows is afraid of me," she said quietly, "my own father abandoned me because of it – only my Grandfather and my Uncle have stayed with me. Whenever I say anything about dreams or mention a headache I see the fear in their eyes. You have no idea what it's like. To be terrified of sleeping because you won't understand what you're seeing, to be afraid of a headache because you know you're about to see something you didn't ask for. I long to be like normal girls who only have to worry about romances and marrying good men – I know I'll have neither."

"What happened to us Sura?" He asked as he sank into a chair, running his fingers through his messy brown hair. "Last night I thought we had started to understand one another."

"Last night we were just two people brought together by….strange dreams," she answered, realizing too that the great leap they had taken meant nothing to the wall she built with her arrogance and her need to protect herself. Now that wall had crumbled, and his understanding of her was almost absolute. "Today you are the commander of your army on your quest to rescue your father – I'm just a captive Seer whose family owns half the world."

"Last night, what did you see?" He questioned slowly, glancing at her sideways as he drank once more.

"I don't know," she admitted, pleading with her eyes that he saw the truth in it.

"You said to me dreams have meaning, didn't you?" His words were harsher than he meant them to be, but he didn't want her to go back to her tricks. He was getting tired of Lannister habits, getting tired of chasing stories and half-truths. He wanted straight honest answers, even if it went against her nature.

"Yes," she said as she sank to the floor knowing she needed to explain quickly and efficiently to avoid another fight, "dreams have meaning for everyone if you can understand them. I rarely understand what I see when I'm dreaming, no matter how hard I try to wrap my head around them I can never understand them. Drams aren't visions, they're two completely separate entities – dreams are just more vivid, more detailed for Seers."

"Well you must have seen something that sent you scurrying to your father," he grunted as he set down the empty horn down, leaving it be. He'd needed to dull his senses, but he wanted to keep his wits around Sura. Despite her attitude and her upbringing and the fact that she was a bloody Seer she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd been raised with honor, sober he knew he would never dishonor her, noble or common, but drunk he didn't trust himself. "What was it? What was so important you gave orders to one of my men and then suddenly you go from idolizing the man to despising him?"

"The truth," she responded as she looked up at Robb, knowing that things would never be the same. Her life in this camp had so far been comfortable, more comfortable than she could have hoped for, but now that he knew her secret her life was going to become hell. Every waking moment she would spend in fear of a nother vision, dreading when it would happen and terrified of the interrogation that would follow. He would question every dream, every blink, every time she rubbed her temples or forehead - there would be no rest for her anymore. This, however, was where she drew the line. He may know her secret, but he had no way of forcing it out of her. "Ask all you want, I'll take it to my grave."

"I'll not press you more," he muttered as he pulled his boots off his feet, weary of this conversation, weary of her deceit and her trickery. He was too tired to deal with her now, he just wanted to close his eyes and pretend it wall all just a dream, "sleep. You've had a hard day. I doubt tomorrow will be any easier for you."

Sleep found neither Sura nor Robb that night as they lay facing away from one another. She was terrified of what would happen now that he knew her secret, now that he had complete control over her. He could threaten to tell everyone her secret and she would be forced to follow his every word, lest she be manipulated by more than one man. She did her best to stifle her crying, and after a short time Gray Wind joined her on the floor. He'd stayed neutral throughout the argument, letting them argue, but he lay beside Sura and comforted her, gently licking her cheek before he huffed and rested his head in the curve between her hip and ribcage, his honey colored eyes staring at his master's back. Robb's mind raced as he tried to understand what he could of his conversation with Sura. He was in awe of the fact that she was a seer, blessed with being able to see the future, though all she'd spoke of was death. Surely she saw happier things? Surely, somewhere in her visions or her dreams she'd seen a ray of sunlight on the darkness she perceived to be her life. He remembered the terror that had swelled in her eyes when he'd thrown that book on the table where it still sat, and looking back on it now he regretted it.

She thought he was going to use her ability against her, manipulate her. Maybe a lesser man would, and it hurt him that her opinion of him was so low. Yet, what had he done to make her think any differently of him?

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><p>Yes yes I know the chapter title may have left some of you believing that something ELSE was going to happen - but not yet my pretties! I know you're probably getting a little miffed that Suriekinz and Robbie aren't together yet, but its all about character building! They don't go ga-ga in a single chapter :P I promise though, there's some love to come...oh...just you wait!<p>

Be sure to hit that little review button down below too and tell me how angry you are that there's been no romance yet in my so called romance story, lol. I'd love to hear what yall think.


	7. Chapter 7: Honey, Poison, and Butterflie

AUTHORS NOTE - Lucky number seven...

**ShineInTheStorm** You get your promise at the very end...don't skip ahead, or I'll send my dire wolf after you! Hopefully you keep squealing ;D I love my Surikinz too! I think she'd probably the most realistic character I have ever written 3

**pigletincosmos **I'm really glad you like it so far :D I love being super descriptive with my writing because I feel its my duty to help you see what I see. I did think it was maybe stretching it a bit to make Sura turn on Jamie so suddenly, but her mother was everything to her, and she watched her mother die in a vision, killed by Cersei. Jamie was sleeping with Cersei, so Sura felt as if her father never really cared for her mother. Also, Sura was abandoned by her father - and trust me, her situation with Tywin will be revealed soon enough. I hate puppy love 3

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Seven<span>**

**Honey, Poison, and Butterflies**

Night still gripped the world, the moon hung high in the sky like the sliver of a cat's eye watching the events below. The temperatures were dropping every day with the sun, winter was indeed coming. While it may have been cold outside, inside the tent it was warm and comfortable. They'd planned an attack on Castle Riverrun at dawn, and what little sleep Robb had gotten had been restless. So many lives rested in the palms of his hands, his every word moved them closer to death. It was a burden he still wasn't used to bearing. He sat picking at the food a servant had brought him, his eyes focused on the sleeping form of his captive. He could see her eyes move beneath her eyelids and occasionally she would toss or turn, but not violently. Every so often Grey Wind would huff or whine and put his head on her, forcing her to quiet down so he could go back to sleep. It was all rather entertaining, but he still couldn't seem to grasp the idea that she was a seer. In all appearances she was a normal girl simply blessed with beauty, there was nothing defining or obvious that made her different. That was probably why people were afraid of her, she didn't look like the stories said. She stirred in her sleep; her eyelids fluttering as she slowly woke.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly as she yawned slightly and rubbed at her eyes. At first he didn't know why he'd said it, and then he realized that he meant it, that it was the absolute truth. Her golden hair naturally fell in soft curves, framing her face perfectly. One of her shoulders was naked as her nightdress fell to the side, and she was so finely bones he could have traced its structure even from several feet away. The bruise on her cheek was still dark and garish, but it was beginning to fade, restoring her flawless beauty – though he had a feeling the split in her lip was going to scar.

"Watching me sleep?" She asked groggily as she propped herself up on her elbows. He back, neck and shoulders were sore from spending another night on the ground, though she was too proud to complain. Looking up at Robb, his profile distinct in the firelight, she saw how soft his expression was, but kindness now could not possibly change what had happened.

"It's the only time I can really see you for you, no masks," he said as he took a bite of the bread, not really tasting it as he saw her aquamarine eyes harden – she thought so lowly of him. The silence between them was prolonged, and it was quite uncomfortable. Sura stayed on the ground, gently stroking Grey Wind's fur as she fought to smother her suspicions. With a sigh, Robb broke the silence with what he believed was an innocent question. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," she said carefully, acutely aware that the next question would most likely have to do with dreams and visions. Robb bit back his tongue, not realized how suspicious she'd actually been of him. Was she like this way with everyone who knew? So cautious, so careful and so cold?

"Sura, please don't be afraid of me," he said as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "you need to be able to trust someone."

"Why would I trust you?" She scoffed. The words were soft, but he heard the malice in them, heard the veiled anger that seethed within her tones. "You of all people think that I can trust you? Wasn't it you who reminded me yesterday that I am a captive in your camp, in your custody and under your protection? Why would I trust you when you plan to sell me back to my family? How has any of that made you worthy of my trust, Stark?"

"Damn it woman!" He growled as he threw his goblet half way across the room, his temper flaring again as he sprang to his feet. With a groan of agitation he sank back, his eyes flaring as he rubbed at his temples. "Why must you do this? It's like every word you say is an attempt to infuriate me! One moment it's like we're almost friends, the next you've got me at your throat. Every conversation we have turns into a fight Sura, insulting one another, trying to outsmart the other, to see who can inflict the most damage."

"That's how it's supposed to be, that's how we were raised. It's not in our nature to be friends Robb. My Grandfather raised me to never trust anyone who wasn't raised to be me, just as you were raised to never trust my family," she replied harshly as she stared at her captor. Part of her wished that she could trust Robb, so far he had been honorable and kind, but she knew that there was always darkness in the hearts of men. _They will speak honey to your ears and kiss poison to your lips._

"In all honesty Sura if we were just two people – you weren't a Lannister and I wasn't a Stark – we wouldn't be like this. We wouldn't hate each other simply because of what families we were born into."

"Maybe you're right," she admitted, "but that's beside the point. There would be no 'we'. You ARE a Stark and I AM a Lannister, thrown together by a blood fued older than we are, you're argument is invalid. Simply thinking 'what if' will never bring about a reality. Besides, it wouldn't matter what family I had or hadn't been born into, I'm still a seer, and everyone hates seers."

"I don't, truly."

"How can you not? My own Grandfather, my sworn protector looks at me with a glint in his eyes that I know he would rather see me dead than risk anyone knowing my secret and using it against him. My Aunt would strangle me with her own two hands if she knew I was a Seer. The only one who doesn't hate me is Tyrion, and that's because Tywin hates him more!" Sura admonished as tears burned in her throat again. "People hate what they don't understand Robb."

"I understand you, Sura. Better than you think. Your mother was killed when you were a girl, you were raised by your grandfather because your father wasn't man enough to face his grief or accept that you were special. You've spent half your life watching the people around you die in dreams or visions and that's why you push everyone away. You're afraid of getting so close to someone that their death will break you because you feel like you can't save them." The compassion and the honesty in his voice along with the ferocity of his determination brought her to tears, because he'd described her completely and utterly. He had a full understanding of her, more so than any other stranger ever would. Indeed Robb Stark was still a stranger to her, she could know everything about his family and upbringing, but she knew nothing about him.

"Just stop, please," she begged as she looked at him, her eyes pleading and wet with tears, and the sight retched at his heart. He wanted to apologize, but that would be a lie. He wasn't at all sorry that he understood her, he wasn't at all sorry that he'd finally broken through the Lannister shell and found the girl inside, fragile and afraid of losing everything – which was why she had nothing. The silence between them was broken when a page boy popped his head into the tent.

"My lord, the men are gathering." Robb dismissed him with a nod before rising form his seat and crossing the room to where his armor rested, where Sura had put it her first night here. He pulled his cuirass over his head, and Sura was there, silent behind him as her nimble fingers mastered the buckles far quicker than any squire. In reverse of their first day together, she assisted him wordlessly with his other equipment, adjusting the fit of one of his shoulder plates before she stepped back and admired her work. She gave him a nod that she was finished and he nodded to her in return, preparing to leave. He turned to her with a slight smile and said, "if all goes well today, you won't be sleeping on the ground tonight."

She spent most of her day with Lady Stark, keeping herself as busy as she possibly could while trying to be of use. They spoke little more than idle chatter and she slowly reflected on what exactly had happened yesterday. She recognized that she had betrayed her father; even a child would see that. Part of her loved him still so fiercely she would kill to save him and yearned to go back to the days when he'd carried her on his back or guided her hands on a bow. She would die to go back and sit behind him on his big war horse, her hands wrapped around his waist, wild laughter in her throat as they loped across the shoreline. That was the man she loved, not the monster who would bed his own sister. Joffrey was thirteen, three years her junior – Sura's mother hadn't died until she was eight. Doing the math correctly, both Joffrey and Myrcella had been born before Sura's mother had been murdered, and Tommen had been born the year after. Jamie had been too distraught to look at or continue to raise his daughter, but had still bedded his mistress? The thought disgusted her to the point that she felt physically sick and excused herself from Lady Stark's presence.

She walked quietly with Rowan, who she now had a good understand of, back to Robb's tent. Suddenly, not far from her destination, Sura froze and looked up at the sky; the sun's cool light shone down on her and became hot, burning hot, like she was standing on executioner's rock in the capital. She'd been taken there once by her father, and held in place as a man had been beheaded for treason, was this a memory? She could hear the roar of the crowd in her ear, though the camp had been silent. She shook her head, pulling herself back to reality. Rowan was at her side, a hand on her shoulder. She saw his lips move, but didn't hear the words. She slipped back into Kings Landing, hovering above the crowd as she saw a pretty red headed girl, the Queen and her Son sanding above the prisoner they were condemning, Eddard Stark. Joffrey silenced the crowd, pompous and arrogant with a golden crown above his head. _My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch, stripped of all titles and powers he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And My Lady Sansa, has begged mercy for her father, but they have the soft hearts of women! So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Illan, bring me his head._

"NO!" Sura sat bolt upright, her head swimming and pain ripping through her by the suddenness of her movements. She felt sicker than she had ever felt before, and her eyes swam viciously while she tried to regain control. Pictures continued to stab at the back of her eyelids as she tried to shake free. She didn't want to see this, didn't want to know this. She didn't want to be the one to have to tell them that everything they were fighting for was going to end. Sharp, horrific realization hit her, however, when she realized she'd felt this way before. She'd been eight years old, standing on the beach, and pain and agony had ripped through her as she had watched her mother die. She had just witnessed the death of Lord Eddard Stark from over a hundred miles away. Falling from the bed where she'd been placed, Sura clutched at the edge of the table, pulling herself to her feet as she tried to get her bearings, tried to figure out what she was going to do. Rowan heard the commotion and appeared his eyes wide.

"My Lady you are not well! Please, rest." He took her by her shoulders, and only then did she realize she was crying and shaking. She shook her head in refusal.

"No, where is Robb?" She choked on her sob.

"Grieving on the edge of camp." So he knew already, she broke free from Rowan's grip and was running before she had told her feet what to do. She'd forsaken a cloak, which was a grave mistake, as cold leeched at her strength. Her heart hammered in her chest as she ran through the camp, not caring how the soldiers looked at her, not caring about her family name or the dignity she was supposed to convey. She heard him before she saw him, and when she saw him, her heart dropped. He was beating senselessly at an old tree, his sorrow and anger and pain clearly displayed on his face.

"Robb," she said, his eyes meeting hers, her breath hanging in the air like words between them, and for a split second she wondered what he was going to do. The pain and anguish he was going through was because of her family, undoubtedly his hatred for Lannisters had been renewed tenfold, and he could take that anger out on her – here and now. It was a risk and a danger, but one she had to take. He dropped his sword in the dead leaves and reached out to her. Tears broke her eyes once more as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The plate of his armor was bitterly cold against her skin and the thin fabric of her gown, but his tears were warm, his face was warm as she held him, comforted him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Unhand my son," Catlyn's biting tone broke through the painfully tender moment she and Robb had found themselves in as Sura found herself ripped from Robb's arms and thrown to the ground by the woman. Even in her sorrow she was dignified, even though her husband had just died, she still maintained ruthless control of her emotions. She glared down at Sura with hatred so fierce it could frighten a mountain cat. "How dare you? After what's been done?"

Sura shook her head slowly, words refusing to come to mind as she stared up at Lady Stark. She wanted to say that it wasn't her, that she hadn't been the one who'd killed him that she'd had nothing to do with it. She wouldn't have listened though. Grief was a far stronger motivator than fear or anger, and pain so fresh and raw would have driven even the sanest of people to make the most insane choice. Sura left the mother and son to their grief, and as she stumbled out of the copse of trees, numb with cold, Sura heard Robb's voice behind her. "I'll kill them all. Every one of them. I'm gunna kill them all."

II

Dreading what might come, Sura waited in the tent, her knees pulled to her chest. She'd discarded the gown she'd been wearing – it was torn and sullied from her wild race to find Robb, and it had been much too thin to fight the chill that was threatening her. The one she wore now was thicker and warmer, but she still shook. Wrapped in the furs that she slept in, Sura waited, her eyes red and puffy as tears continued to fall – even when she thought she had cried enough, more came. It wasn't long until Robb entered and his words crept back into her mind. He paused in the doorway and simply looked at her, pain and anguish still strong in his gaze.

"Did you see it?" He asked so quietly she almost didn't hear him, she closed her eyes as she remembered how the vision had consumed her, paralyzed her to the world around her. She'd never seen anything so strongly before, not even her mother's death had made her lose complete awareness of her surroundings.

"Yes." She replied, air escaping her lungs as he strode across the room and lifted her to her feet. She looked in his eyes, not exactly knowing what she saw, but she kept her gaze locked with his, her voice shaking. "Am I to be the first?"

"What?" True confusion passed over his blue eyes, as if he didn't know what she was talking about. He wasn't but a few inches from her, she could feel his breath on her face; she felt her heart beat a little quicker. In these last days Robb had stripped her of every defense she'd been raised with, there was nothing but the Seer left for him to know. All of her pain all of her fears were in his hands. Just that morning he had broken through the last of her armor and he had seen that she wasn't as dark or evil as those who shared her blood. Realization broke over him as he grasped her meaning. She must have heard what he'd said to his mother, his threat to every person that bore the Lannister name. She was one of them by blood. He shook his head as he recognized the fear and the helplessness that filled her eyes. She thought he was going to kill her. He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand, and shook his head. "You aren't one of them anymore."

Electricity shot through her veins, and a fire started at her lips, as he lowered his head to hers. Butterflies erupted inside her as she reached her hands up to hold his jaw, the stubble on his cheek biting into her palms, looping one arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her as she returned the kiss. All of their combined pain and anguish turned to pure liquid fire as she opened her mouth to him, relishing in a feeling she had never known. His fingers laced through her hair as he savored the feeling of this, pulling her closer. From the moment he'd seen her he'd wanted to posses her, this was entirely different, this kiss wasn't a submission, it was the only way he knew to destroy her fear of him – because he had no intention of hurting her, not like her family already had. He pulled her as close to him as his armor and her clothing would allow one hand in her hair, the other wrapped around her thin waist, refusing to let her go.

"You." The hiss broke them apart, both breathing hard, Robb defensively moved in front of Sura, shielding her from his mother's wrath. Lady Catlyn Stark's eyes blazed as she scowled at Sura, shaking with rage.

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><p>OH MY GAWSH! If you didn't get super excited when you read that last bit then I have to say we cannot be friends...oh well. There's a bit of the lovydovyness that I promised you my minions! Stay tuned to see whether or not Wolves and Lions can survive side by side. ;P<p>

REVIEW BELOW IF YOU DARE! Seriously...please? I don't bite...I swear!


	8. Chapter 8: See, Believe, Behold

AUTHORS NOTE: Okay, so I didn't give you guys an update yesterday - sorry but I was working ^.^'. This chapter, unfortunately, is not up to my personal standards, sorry if you all feel the same way - but there was no way for me to make it better in my mind. Most likely I'm just being over critical and whiny, lol, so you'll all probably still love it. Anywho! TIME FOR SOME REVIEW RESPONSES! Because I love you guys 3

**ShineInTheStorm** I'm glad you gave Lady Stark an award, goodness knows the poor woman needed one lol. Don't worry though, there's no bitchslappery involved :D

**BiteMeYouSuch **I'm glad you like it! Its a great distraction for me while I'm AT work lol.

**AlexiaSilver **there's definately going to be a bit of confrontation between Lady Stark and Sura...just wait (not in this chapter, but in later ones :P)

**pigletincosmos **Nothing is logical when you're grieving. It doesn't matter if that person killed your love or not their FAMILY did, and in GOT family is everything to some people, like Lady Stark. Especially because Robb is her eldest son, her pride and joy, he's everything to her and she's furious to find him with Sura. If Sura had been any other girl, even a servant girl, she probably wouldn't have cared nearly as much. And I did that on purpose by the way :P

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Eight<span>**

**See, Believe, Behold**

"I want this she-devil in irons beside her father!" Lady Catlyn Stark hissed viciously as she pointed at Sura, who was beyond startled and slightly embarrassed, and half hidden behind Robb. He'd stepped in front of her the moment his mother had interrupted them, shielding her from the woman's grief driven rage. Lady Stark was shaking with fury from finding her son lip locked with a daughter of the house that had just murdered her husband. She didn't mind Sura in the slightest, she was a strong willed girl with good principles who'd suffered quite a bit in her life, but that didn't change the fact that she was a Lannister; nor the fact that she'd been found with Catlyn's son. She may have looked angelic, but Catlyn knew the treachery women were capable of.

"She stays with me," Robb said defensively as he stood between Sura and his mother. Guilt hung like a weight in Sura's chest as she watched mother and son stare at one another. They should be grieving together, comforting each other, not fighting over her. It was her fault, she should have known better.

"After what her family's done? You would still defend her?" Catlyn's words were bitter, filed with sorrow and anger. She was absolutely awestruck by her son's actions. "One moment you want to kill all the Lannisters and then here I find you consorting with one?"

"Do not mistake me," Robb said rigidly, not taking kindly to having his words thrown back in his face, "I mean to see their heads on spikes, but Sura is not her family. She didn't kill my father she didn't push Bran from a window."

"But she is still a Lannister!" Catlyn returned ferociously, "They lie as easily as dogs bark, and they betray those closest to them whenever it is convenient for them! She has already proven it!"

"Weren't you the one who told me to protect her?" Robb returned quickly. Sura closed her eyes, wishing it would all go away, wishing she could take back the kiss. Then she realized in her heart that she didn't want to take it back. In that instant of pure fire she had felt something she had never felt before in her life and it had given her hope. Hope that she actually had a future, one that wasn't built on loneliness and exile, but sunlight and joy.

"Robb I told you to keep her safe because I felt sorry for her, because I thought the poor girl needed compassion. Now I see her true motives, now I see she only means to climb into your bed and into your mind before she cuts your throat. She is a Lannister and a woman, two of the most dangerous combinations the gods could have ever created."

"She is not one of them, maybe by blood, but by nothing else." Robb said carefully, and just then Sura realized that he was protecting more than her wellbeing. "Her reasons for abandoning her father are her own, she has been through more than you know mother."

"You believe this because she said it?"

"Yes."

"Then I raised a fool," her tone had dropped slightly, more painful than furious, "Do as you please, but do not think for a moment that when she is reunited with her family that she will spare a thought for you as you have spared for her."

"That is the risk I take."

"I do not approve Robb," Catlyn said as her eyes met Sura's and she saw all the woman's pain and grief and fear. If Sura had been born to any other family maybe she and Lady Stark wouldn't be at odds now. In truth it was Catlyn's fear that was driving her words, not any ill will she bore towards Sura herself. "But I cannot stop you."

She turned and exited the tent with a flourish and Sura watched her go regretfully. In the last few months Catlyn Stark had suffered greatly, and Sura recognized it. Someone had shoved her second youngest son out of a window and crippled him for life, her two daughters were being held captive by the Queen with no way of knowing how they were or if she would ever hold them again, her eldest daughter was still to marry the monstrous young king, her husband had just been executed on false terms hundreds of miles away, and she had to watch her eldest son ride off into battle not knowing if that was the last time she was going to see him. Lady Stark bore a heavy burden, now that she'd lost her husband; there was no doubt in Sura's mind that she was terrified of losing everything else.

"I'm sorry," Robb apologized as he turned to face her, his expression was stricken and Sura couldn't blame him. He'd just faced down his own mother, even though this should have been a time of unity between them and her family was to blame for both sides of the pain.

"Why are you apologizing?" Sura asked as she took Robb's face in her hands. "You have nothing to apologize for. She's protecting her son from what she precedes as a threat. Her reaction is nothing less than what's to be expected of any mother given these circumstances. My family is tearing yours apart; even now the Lions attack the Wolves."

"I don't understand, what do you mean?" She closed her eyes and sighed, the imploring confusion within his sapphire eyes was too much for her to bear at the moment. Whatever was growing between them was pulling Robb away from his family, and she had to recognize it. Just then, with her eyes closed, hands on his face, his heartbeat resounding in her palm, a whisper touched her ears and the flash of an image passed before her eyes. She recoiled, releasing her hold on his face, sharply inhaling at what she saw. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she stammered attempting to regain her sense of self, and just as quickly as it had overtaken her, the vision left and faded into nothing except for one resounding sentence that echoed in the depths of her mind: _Do not let him fall._ "It was nothing, don't worry. Please, I'm fine."

"I have to prepare for council, though it's the last place I want to be tonight," he said woefully as he sank onto the edge of his bed, running his hands through his hair. It was a common gesture of his, Sura noted, one that always marked his agitation or worry. She followed suit and joined him on the bed, though she sat facing him carefully placing her hand on his jaw, forcing him to look at her. Such liberties she would never have taken before, but she felt like there was something between them and if what she had just seen was to come to pass she couldn't let him mope. He needed to be strong in the face of what was to come, and if he was focused on all he'd lost he'd forget all that was left to be saved.

"Yet you must, as much as you would rather bask in your sorrow you can't. You have a duty to your house and to your father's memory; you're the leader of this army Robb they look to you for guidance. You have to decide your next move before Tywin does. Your sisters are still out there, they still need you, and you need to be strong," she said carefully, holding his gaze with hers.

"All of this duty and responsibility," he groaned, "will it ever end?"

"No," she said simply shaking her head slightly, "you're the Lord of Winterfell now, like it or not responsibility is all you have. The Lords out there are _your_ banner men now, they serve _you_. There will be time to grieve later, your sisters need you now."

"You're right," he said with a sigh as he stood, rolling his shoulders, still dressed in his armor, "will you come with me?"

"What?" She fumbled, taken by surprise at his request. She blinked at him for a moment, confused. Why would he want her there? Almost all the Lords who served him despised her, hated her and would have seen her dead. The council was the last place she needed to be. She was still technically the enemy, no matter what she had or had not done, and they would never be able to see her as anything but that.

"I don't want to face them alone, please," he pleaded with her and from the look in his sapphire eyes she knew she wasn't going to be able to refuse him. With a rueful smile she shook her head, her golden hair falling about her face in soft tendrils of golden silk. She saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as she moved across the room to her chest, and at his quizzical expression she laughed.

"Well I can't go in this," she said, gesturing to her plain grey gown.

"I think you look lovely," he remarked and he felt something stir inside of himself as her cheeked reddened slightly before she rolled her eyes and turned away. The way her hair fell, the way the she moved, the way her eyes looked at him, the way her hands had felt on his face, the way her words had inspired him, the way those lips had felt against his. She had a strange power over him; she was an angel and a she-devil all in one body. She knew just what to say to infuriate him, to awaken the rage and violence that was hidden inside him, and just the right words that could make him feel like he was more than a confused seventeen year old boy leading an army. It didn't take her long to find something she deemed suitable. He watched as she stepped behind the screen that had been erected near the bath tub for privacy, and he swallowed hard when he saw her silhouette in the firelight. Her dress slid to the floor and Robb had to look away, though the shadow of her figure was most likely branded on his mind for the rest of his days.

"Alright, I'm presentable," she said moments later as she stepped out from behind the curtain, her dark burgundy gown came half way across her shoulders before curving down, slightly displaying the porcelain skin of her chest. It was embroidered in black, and the ribbon that tied the front of her dress together was the same obsidian shade. She smiled and rolled her eyes slightly at Robb's expression as she lifted her sable cloak and put it around her shoulders, relishing in the softness of the rabbit fur that lined the top. It had been a gift from her Uncle, and despite herself Sura missed the little man, he could always make her laugh, no matter the time or the place. She turned back to Robb and couldn't help but laugh. "You should really see your face."

**II**

Darkness had fallen, and the council met in the ruins of an old stone building on the far edge of camp. A tarp had been erected over the space to keep its occupants dry, torches blazed in their holsters as a large fire crackled in its brazier. The banner of House Stark lined the entryway, the gray wolf's head on a solid sheet of wintry snow rippled in the light breeze. Candles lined the tables that the Lords sat at, this time a few women sat amongst them, Ladies of the Houses of the Banners. She felt the glances of curiosity that were shot her way when she'd entered with Robb, wondering why the prisoner Lannister was seated amongst them, though the Lord Umber – also known as Great John the same gray haired man who'd questioned her accusations against the Queen – was the only one to voice his concern as to her presence. A few quick, silent and well-chosen words from Robb in the right tone silenced them all. Their breath hung like smoke in the air, and Sura felt the chill force the hairs on her arms to stand up and she nestled deeper into her cloak, grateful for its warmth. The debate began swiftly as to what course of action Robb and his army should take, now that Ned was dead.

"The proper course is clear," a man with a receding hairline said as he paced before the council, "Pledge fealty to King Renly and move south to join forces."

"Renly is not the King!" Robb interjected with irritation and frustration thick in his voice. They'd been at it for some time already, and Sura could tell that Robb was losing his patience with his council.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey my Lord; he put your father to death!" The man said, and Sura sensed the accusation in the words. Many eyes turned upon her at that point, and she sipped at her wine with indifference. The glass was warm in her hands, and she'd been focused on it most of the proceedings. Beside her was Lady Stark, and Sura had no idea why Robb had done it, placed her beside his mother, especially after their confrontation earlier. Her golden hair was brushed over the shoulder closest to Lady Stark, perhaps as a surreptitious shield between them. Every so often she would feel Catlyn's eyes upon her, and she wondered absentmindedly what the woman thought of her now.

"That doesn't make Renly king," Robb said as he shook his head and look at the men around him, imploring them to see his logic, "He's Roberts youngest brother, Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly cannot be King before Stannis."

"Do you mean to declare us with Stannis?" The man with the receding hairline said as he stared down Robb, clearly not trusting the younger man's judgment.

"Renly is not right!" Someone shouted and the council stirred restlessly as they all began to murmur amongst themselves, Sura sighed and shook her head. This debate was going to be long and painful.

"Men can be so indecisive when it comes to giving out power," Sura said to her cup as she drank from it once more.

"Indeed," Lady Catlyn agreed quietly, and Sura turned to look at her, the grief still clear in her eyes. That was when Sura saw the striking resemblance between mother and son, the same eyes, same reddish-brown hair, same nose. He looked just like her. "Especially when they are afraid."

"I don't understand why they are choosing between southern Lords. Didn't the North govern itself for hundreds of years? Why should men of sunshine and summer rule over men of winter and ice?" The two women looked at one another for a moment, and Lady Stark smiled slightly at her before she stood, her actions commanding silence.

"I'd like to hear what the Lannister among us has to say."

"No doubt she'll tell us to be obedient to our King and return home, waiting judgment for our rebellion," a black haired man said from across the room as he shot her an evil glare, and Sura felt her eyes blaze with indignation. Everyone was judged by their family and she resented it. They would think her cruel, heartless and brain washed simply because of her birth?

"Silence." Robb's word cut through the growing row the council was making, objecting to giving the floor to the Lioness, Robb turned and looked at her, the curiosity in his eyes evident as he looked from Sura to his mother and then back. Not an hour past his mother had warned him not to trust her. Could it be that Catlyn was giving Sura a chance to prove herself? Despite her shaken nerves, Sura stood, slowly, gracefully and her presence commanded their attention. Robb marveled at how magnificent she looked, her aquamarine eyes dancing in the firelight, her pale skin glowing.

"Do you know what the children of the South are raised to believe about the North?" She began, her tone even, her aquamarine eyes sweeping over the faces in the crowd as she picked out those who had wished the end her life. Absolute silence hovered in the air, as if they were hanging on her words. She knew she wasn't that commanding though. "We are taught to believe that you are little more than half-civilized barbarians. However," she raised her voice over the angry row that several of the men had started, "in these last days I have seen what the North is made of. Her men are worth more than fifty in the south. I have witnessed the honor, compassion, and dignity far beyond what I was raised to expect, more than I could have ever hoped for. Men like Stannis and Renly and boys like Joffrey are not fit to stand above you, so why bow to them?"

Some cried out in support of what she'd said, while others accused her of being silver tongued, telling them what they wanted to hear. She knew that many of them wouldn't believe her; she knew that they would take her worlds half poisoned. But she meant what she said, and she would not be discouraged by their disagreement.

"My Lords!" Great John said as he stood and claimed the floor, his eyes meeting Sura for a second as he nodded. "Here's what I say to these two kings!" He spat the ground, and Sura felt the smile cross her face before she was able to conceal the triumphant glow in her eyes. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me nor Stannis neither! Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the south? What do they know of the war or the wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong! Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to, and now the Dragons are dead."

His words were inspiring and many of the Lords cheered with him and laughed at his jokes, and with a flourish the Great John unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Robb, and Sura closed her eyes in quiet satisfaction. This is what she had seen moments ago in the quiet of Robb's tent, this was the flash of image that had been too fragile to truly exist, and she nudged it in the right direction.

"There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee too! THE KING IN THE NORTH!" He cried as he knelt before Robb, whose face didn't change, he simply stood before John Umber, his expression set.

"I'll have peace on those terms," another Lord called as he rose to his feet, "they can keep their Red Castle, and their Iron Chair too! The King in the North."

"Am I your brother?" Theon, the tawny haired ruffian sad as he stood, his eyes focus on Robb, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Now and always?"

"Now and always." Robb replied with a slow nod.

"My sword is yours, in victory and defeat, form this day until my last day." That was when the call went up and all the Lords followed suit, each drawing his blade and bending his knee to Robb who turned and looked back at the two women he had forced together. His mother cast him a grim – albeit proud - smile, while Sura's eyes blazed at him with a triumph he'd never seen before. She had seen this, that much he was certain of, that was why she'd been willing to speak, that was why she had said what she had. His only wonder was, did she mean any of it?

**III**

She laughed as her feet hit the ground, she shook her hair in her face as she relished in his glory – though he'd been silent the entire journey back through camp. Robb didn't want this responsibility, he didn't ask for it, but he understood why he had no choice but to accept it. He'd been raised to lead, taught how to act his whole life; he was their best choice for the King in the North. He had summoned the banners together and organized this entire war, wasn't that something kings did? His horse's breath hung in the air like tendrils of smoke, the nights chill in full force. She could hear the page boy shaking slightly from the cold as he grabbed the horse's reins while Robb dismounted with a thud and Sura spun to face him, her smile broad. Perhaps most of the Lords thought she was deranged by now, insane as the King who'd sat on the Iron Throne before Robert, for turning on her father, disowning the Queen and then encouraging the North to break away from the South. A Seer's logic cannot be understood or explained, what they see usually comes to pass, and they either watch it happen or encourage the events that lead to it. She laughed again, but as she saw Robb adjust something on the horse's saddle, the sight became far too familiar for her. Her expression fell as realization hit her like a blow to the head, without a second thought he rushed forward as Robb began to turn to face her as the page boy began to lead the horse away. She shoved him aside quickly, his eyes confused at the fear and desperation on her face before pain shot through him.

"NO!" She screamed as the knife cut into Robb's side. Her hands flashed out, feeling the bite of the cold metal on her palms as she grabbed the blade, wrestling with the unseen figure in the shadows. It wasn't much of a contest however, as she was quickly knocked back with a sharp blow to her shoulder, the air was ripped from her chest as she landed hard on her back. The would-be assassin stood over her for a fraction of a second, debating what to do with her, but he lingered too long as a gasp escaped him, Robb's knife through his chest. The man fell to the side, and Robb looked down at Sura in bewilderment before flinching, holding his hand against his side, coming away smeared in red.

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><p>-holds up shields- alright, I'm ready for the hatemail, lol.<p> 


	9. Chapter 9: Dreams Against Reality

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Alright, I'm sure half of you were probably ready to kill me for taking more than a month to update this story! I have a very good excuse, he's 5'7" and incredibly good looking. The boyfriend stole my muse, but I'm back with the LAST UPDATE OF THIS STORY UNTIL APRIL! That's right folks, unfortunately I am putting the story on hold after this. I've gone as far as I can in the episodes I had, and without stretching the story too thin I'm going to have to put it on hold.

**Suz Singer, Phantasmic, klandgraf2007, Azalia Fox Knightling** : Thank you all for your reviews. I'm so happy you like it! It's been a long process, but I'm very happy with where it is.

**ShineInTheStorm**: I'm not going to lie, I was a little worried when you never reviewed chapter 8! Don't worry, you'll see how Robb is down below. And I know you're going to hate me for putting this story on Hiatus, but for more amazing Robb action you might want to check out my other story, Beneath Candles in a little while. :D So, until April my good friend, I am going to miss you :'(

**BiteMeYouSuck: **Don't worry, he'll be alright :P

**pigletincosmos: **I'm glad you love Sura as much as I do. I think by far she's one of the most incredible characters I've ever created.

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><p><strong><span>Chapter Nine<span>**

Dreams Against Reality

She marched through the light frost, the ground crunching slightly beneath her boots as she moved with purpose. Her furs were wrapped tightly around her, keeping in the warmth the slight wind would steal. The events of tonight still reeled in her head. She'd been quick to judge the Lannister girl, quick to jump at the thought that she would be like all the rest of her bloodline. Perhaps there was the smallest chance that she was a diamond in the rough, that she was the only one out of any of that lot that had inherited some sort of sense and decency. That, of course, was hoping for quite a lot. The girl was just as treacherously lovely as the rest of them, but the look in her eyes had no comparison. Lady Catlyn had watched the way her eyes had followed Robb the way she had listened intently to nearly every word he said, the same way Catlyn did to Ned. If times were different, perhaps they would be a good match – but Robb had a treaty to uphold to Lord Walder, and Catlyn would be damned if she saw any girl, common, princess or Lannister jeopardize their allegiances.

"Lady Stark," the armored guards bowed their heads at her approach, slightly bewildered by her appearance on this chilly night.

"I want to see him," she said, snapping at their hesitation, "now."

She followed quickly behind the guard as they passed through their makeshift prison, the cages holding their captives were sturdy and solid, the prisoners huddled together to keep out of the cold, some coughed and wheezed and shivered in silence as Lady Stark moved past them. The Lion of Lannister looked just as helpless as the day he'd been put in chains. The sight still flooded her with a sense of justice. His clothes were soiled, his handsome face was covered in dirt and mire, his golden hair was greasy and disheveled. It brought her great pleasure to see him brought so low. He was just a man, Kingslayer or not, he would bleed like everyone else. Without turning to face them, she dismissed the guards. "Leave us."

"You look lovely tonight Lady Stark," Jamie said, his voice slightly ragged, the blood still caked on his face, "widowed becomes you. Your bed must be lonely, is that why you came? I'm not at my best, but I think I could be of service. Slip out of that gown and we'll see if I'm up to it."

His sarcasm and hateful words filled her blood with an icy fire. She crouched and wrapped her fingertips around a thick, sturdy rock. Slowly she approached as he continued to run his mouth, spewing more bile from his tongue, and just as he lay down his final insult, she smashed the rock into his face with all her might, knocking his lecherous words right out of his mouth, maybe along with a few teeth. He suppressed a groan, stubborn and unwilling to admit that she'd caused him pain.

"I do like a violent woman," his voice was still thick with sarcasm, as if he was no more talking to one of his friends than the woman whose husband his nephew-son had just murdered. He spat blood from his mouth, inwardly reflecting how badly he'd like to murder this woman.

"I will kill you tonight sir, pack your head in a box and send it to your sister," Lady Catlyn couldn't keep the hatred and the rage out of her voice as her knuckles tightened over the rock again, turning white in anticipation, aching to strike again, wishing with all her heart that she could simply kill him and be done with it. Deep within her heart she wanted to kill all the Lannisters, bring them all to their knees and watch them fall.

"Come let me show you how, hit me again, over the ear and again and again. You're stronger than you look – shouldn't take long." His breath hung in tendrils in the night's air, there was no fear in his voice, no slight spark in his eyes realizing that he could die a prisoner, that he would never see his family again.

"That is what you want the world to believe isn't it? That you don't fear death."

"But I don't my lady. The dark is coming for all of us, why grab at it?"

"Because you are going to the deepest of the seven hells if the gods are just." She was starting to shake with anger, wishing that she herself could just kill him. Why not? His sister had killed her husband, an eye for an eye. He was – unfortunately – of more use to them alive than dead she reminded herself. Through her grief she had to think of Sansa and Arya, had to remember that her precious daughters were still in the Queen's clutches. Jamie's death could be answered by theirs.

"What gods are those? The trees your husband prayed to?" His tone held slight laughter, skeptical, cruel laughter. Jamie Lannister was godless, he didn't pray to anything or anyone. He ruled his own life, he created his own luck. Everything in life he had, he'd gotten for himself. "Where were the trees when his head was getting chopped off? If your gods are real and if they're just why is the world so full of injustice?"

"Because of men like you," her voice shook with poorly concealed anger.

"There are no men like me, only me," his voice dropped slightly as he looked away into the distance, as if he regretted that he was the only one in the world who had strength and courage, who was brave and fierce. Lady Catlyn knew that he was none of those things. He was just a man, flesh and blood and bone who took every opportunity to further his ambitions.

"My son, Bran," her tone lowered as the tears threatened at her eyes. Perhaps this was her only opportunity to learn the truth about his accident, "how did he come to fall from that tower?"

"I pushed him out the window." The simplicity of his statement and the nonchalant way he said it sickened Catlyn.

"Why?" Her voice broke.

"I hoped the fall would kill him."

"Why?"

"You should get some sleep, its going to be a long war." He breathed heavily as fresh blood dripped from his open wounds. He watched as she turned and began to slowly walk away, he couldn't stop himself, couldn't resist. He needed to know, had to know, it had felt like weeks since he'd seen her, since she'd been near him. Was she even still alive? "Sura, how is she?"

"She keeps Robb company," Lady Catlyn said carefully over her shoulder, and she heard with satisfaction as he pulled slightly on his chains. It was so easy to get a rise out of him when the girl was mentioned. It was his one weakness, and Lady Catlyn would take care never to forget it. Of all the things that Lady Stark knew, she knew that Jamie Lannister didn't deserve a daughter like Sura.

**II**

The commotion outside the tent had died down almost completely as the camp recovered from the surprise attack on their commander. The wind howled outside, forcing tent flaps to flutter viciously at times. Her heart still hammered in her chest, her breath was still in her throat, but it was all over. Calm should have seeped through her, should have steadied her nerves, but it didn't. None of the healers were sober enough to tend even the simplest of wounds, so the task of stitching together the tattered edges of Robb's flesh fell to her. Her hands were steady despite her nerves as she carefully focused on her task, only thinking of each stitch. She couldn't think of how close she was to him, how the heat radiated off of his skin, how his muscles glistened slightly with sweat in the dancing firelight, or how intently his eyes were focused on her. She held her breath lest she breathe in the scent of him and forget herself, and despite all her concentration she was still distracted. He had almost died.

Over and over she replayed the scene in her head. If she hadn't been a seer, Robb Stark would be dead right now, and their rebellion would have been crippled. But he wasn't, here he sat before her, alive with nothing but a shallow slash in his side. The knife hadn't gone deep enough to do any real damage, but it had still bled pretty badly. Completing her stitching, Sura nodded to a servant who stepped forward and placed a clean bandage on the wound and carefully placed a wrap over it to hold it in place. Sura stood and put a short distance between herself and Robb as she began breathing again, cleaning the blood and gore from her hands in a nearby wash basin. The wound on her palm was too shallow to require stitching and it would heal in a few days. It would scar though, a constant reminder of what she'd done.

"You saved my life," Robb said quietly as the servant excited the tent. She heard his sharp intake of breath as he moved and the stitches pulled slightly against his skin. They were going to take some getting used too, and most likely would need looked at by a more skilled healer in the morning – when they were sober. Anger flared deep within her for a moment, what if he had been more seriously injured? Something beyond her minor level of healing? He could be lying in the snow, dying, and the healers would have all been too drunk to help.

"I did," she said shakily as she carefully dried her hands, still facing away from him. Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders and he slowly turned her around, for a moment she met his eyes. Their sapphire depth burned into hers with a longing she could match, but theirs was a fantasy. She looked away, he caught her jaw – gently – and forced her to look at him. The softness of his features were outlined in the firelight, twisting half of his face slightly in the shadows. Not even shadow puppets could mask how handsome he was, not to her eyes.

"Sura," he said gently, "I owe you my life."

"And I owed you mine, now we are even," she said softly. She watched as a new expression passed over his face, one that told her she'd slightly hurt his feelings. If so, that had not been her intent. He needed to come down out of the clouds and take a good look at his reality. His father was dead, he was Lord of his House now, he'd just been named the King in the North, and his war was going well, and when the fighting was done he had promised to marry one of Walder Fray's daughters. Any one of those things could change in a split second. He'd almost died tonight, and if she hadn't been there, if she hadn't interfered with fate, he would be.

"Woman you frustrate me beyond belief," he sighed as he released her and winced at the strain the movement put on his wound. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to return to that moment they'd shared only a few hours before. Had she forgotten? Or did she regret it?

"If you aren't careful it'll reopen Robb!" She said quickly as she grabbed at his arm, attempting to keep him from moving too much. He may never have been injured before, which was something she highly doubted, but his life was a thousand times more important than anyone else in this camp, and he couldn't continue to act in the manner he was accustomed.

"Its as if we're strangers again Sura," he said shaking his head as he settled back onto his bed. The deep eyes of his wolf followed the pair, amused slightly by another turn in their relationship – which was a right royal mess. Gray Wind brushed his tail across the ground and yawned, his pink tongue lolling from his mouth.

"I nearly had to watch you die tonight," she said, her voice hushed as she hugged her chest and stared at the fire, the scene replaying over in her mind how it should have been. "You have no idea what it's like Robb, falling asleep afraid to see the people you love slip away, only to wake up dreading when it will come to pass."

"But you aren't alone Sura," he said quickly, wishing he could take her in his arms and silence her fears. She'd spent her whole life alone, afraid of true human companionship. "Not anymore. You don't have to face these demons alone."

"Robb it will end, you know it will," she said softly as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him, the hesitation and regret slightly lined on her lovely face, "I will be sent back to my family and who will be here to save you next time? And then the next? They will not stop till you are dead and I cannot protect you."

"It could be quite some time before this war ends, even then what's to say after everything that I'll let you go back to them?" Robb said carefully as he watched her. There were no tears in her eyes, just a deep sorrow and a weight, as if she carried the world on her shoulders. Even though, silhouetted in the firelight, she was a vision. Her beauty was without comparison, at least in his eyes.

"You would keep me a prisoner forever? You would deny me the ability to choose my own fate?" Her response startled him, as if the thought of spending life outside of war with him was something to laugh at. "Robb if it was an option, I would choose to stay with you, but your mother is right. You have a pact to uphold, and I could not bear to see you marry some girl, watch her have your children and know that I never could. To know that anything we could or would ever have would be tainted, and your honor could never allow you to betray the woman you were bound to. We are a dream Robb, nothing more, nothing less."

"You're wrong," he said carefully as he stood and crossed the room to her, as he wrapped his arms around her. His voice was gentle in her ear, the stubble on his cheek scratching the soft skin of her neck. "This is no dream, Sura. We are here now, in this room, alive and together, this is no dream."

"We have no future Robb, you know this," she said solemnly as she turned to face him, praying that he could just simply understand. Goodbye would be hard enough when the time came, and it would indeed come. By now her grandfather would be aware of the fact that she and her father had been captured, he would know that peace was impossible now that Eddard Stark was dead, and he would be in a feral rage to retrieve his son. His pride and joy, the monster she called father. No doubt, he would want her back as well. Who doesn't want a seer in their camp? Yes, goodbye would be very difficult; she didn't need him to make it any more complicated.

"If what you say is true, my life should have been over an hour ago. Sura, you gave me a future," he cupped her face in his hands, that lovely angelic face, the bruises were merely shadows on her skin now, returning her to pale perfection. The aquamarine depths of her eyes gazed up at him, searching, just as he was. His muscles rippled as the fabric of her dress pressed against him, the heat of their bodies mixing slightly as he lowered his mouth to hers once more. This time, there was no one to interrupt them.

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><p>Well my loves, here it is, my final update of Blood For Blood in 2011. It's been a wonderful ride, and we're all just going to have to wait until season 2 comes out in April. This is not the end though, my sweets! I have another fiction up, Beneath Candles, which some of you may enjoy, and there is another one (or two) in the works based on the books, which I did receive for my birthday 3<p>

Review my lovelies, please :D and I'll wish you all a safe, happy Yuletide season now, as well as a prosperous New Year, and in the words of Jason Aldean - I'll see you when I see you.


	10. Chapter 10: Diconnected

Its been three years. It has been a long time since I've been able to write anything at all, so I hope this does not disappoint too badly. Thank you to those who encouraged me to continue on with this story, and thank you for your patience. I hope I didn't disappoint you. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>I<strong>

Deep snarls filled his ears as the massive beast strode forward. He wasn't afraid, it was only instinct that made him flinch. What a shame it would be: Jamie Lannister, Kingslayer, eaten by a wolf. Several moments of darkness proved he had been spared, and with an unsteady exhale, Jamie Lannister opened his eyes only to stare at the darkness. His patience was wearing thin, he was getting tired of all of this nonsense. Perhaps he would get lucky, perhaps the boy king would really kill him,

"He won't kill you." Her voice was soft and far away, but the words shot through him like hot metal. Straining to turn and face her, he recognized the look in her eyes all too well. She was looking through him, past him, at a world he would never see, just as her mother's had. It was unsettling, to feel as though she were looking beneath his skin.

"Sura," he inhaled, afraid that if he were to speak to loudly, or breathe too harshly she would disappear like a candle's flame, before he composed himself again, "So nice of you to visit."

Even in the half-light Jamie could see how much these weeks had affected her. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and her sunken in cheeks betrayed her loss of weight. In the half light, she looked down at him and exhaled, by the way her breath shook he knew she had been crying. "I can't make them stop."

One moment you hate me, the next you come running like a wounded child. Which daughter am I to expect today?" He asked dismissively. She had wounded him deeply by her betrayal, but she was still his child, she was still his blood, and he still felt responsible for her. After all, this was his fault. She shouldn't even be here. If he hadn't insisted on taking her himself she would be tucked away safe in the Red Keep. So of course she had every right to be angry.

After several long drawn out moments, her expression softened, and he swore he saw a smile as she shook her head, her golden hair illuminated by the distant light of campfires and torches.

"True, I do hate you," she admitted quietly. She leaned against the frame of his makeshift prison. The days were too damn long and they all hurt too damn much, she just wanted to sleep. But she could not allow and opportunity for answers to slip through her fingers. "My mother how did she?"

"She survived because of us. As soon as we became – aware – of her _condition_ we kept her safe," he cooed softly, cutting her off before she'd had time to finish her question. Jamie knew what he was doing, he didn't want to talk about her, not here, not ever if he could help it. It was hard for him to drown out the emotion that was tied to the memories of those terrible times as it was without talking about them. She had been so weak, he hadn't know a person could become so frail. The very memory gnawed at his chest, "Just come here, cut me loose, grab a horse and we'll be gone. I'll take you somewhere safe."

"I don't believe you." Her voice cracked as she recoiled. Part of her desperately wanted to believe him though. This was one of those moments where fathers were supposed to protect their daughters. This was different, Jamie Lannister was different. She was too exhausted to play his games, and with a somber shake of her head she turned to leave. It was very clear that he wasn't going to actually answer her questions, he would just try and convince her to let him loose.

She really shouldn't have been so surprised. Lannister's only cared about themselves. Hell, she had been quick and eager to save her own skin. Wasn't that technically the same thing? _It's not the same thing_, Sura told herself, _I'm nothing like him._ He had pushed Brandon Stark out of a window. He had ruined that poor boy's life, and that was a fact she would never let herself forget. Jamie called out desperately to her as she turned to go, pleading with her not to leave to reconsider. A smile bit at the corners of her mouth. When his silver tongue had failed, the mighty Lion of Lannister had resorted to begging. In silence, she abandoned him and waded through the fog.

**II**

The visions always took their toll, but this was new.

The pain started between her shoulders. It felt like a spider web of radiating pain that threaten to grown. She didn't exactly remember what day it was, and on occasion she would forget she was in the middle of a war. All she knew was, things were going to change, and everyone was going to die.

_An overwhelming wave of sadness came with the first strike, anger with the second, heartbreak with the third, and numbness with the fourth. The rest is a flash of men and steel, blood mixing with the smell of salted meats and melted wax. She didn't even scream._

Crying out and hurling herself from the vision, Sura found herself on the floor of her tent, shaking and covered in sweat. It was dark outside, the fire was beginning to die, and no one was aware of her outburst. Was this the true price of war born seers? Sobbing, Sura buried her head in her hands and cried herself into unconsciousness.

**III**

After weeks – or had it been months? – on the rainy front, all Sura wanted was to feel the sand between her toes and the sun on her face. Her back ached fiercely from days in the saddle, and she shivered violently, but not from the cold - though a hot bath wouldn't have been too bad either. The battlefield was strewn with men, living and dead, it was a sea of despair and pain, men begging the gods - old or new - for the lives, or pleading for death. The screams of the spirits swarmed Sura's psyche and their pain was so loud, it made her head throb and brought tears to her eyes. She felt dizzy, she was going to be sick.

Since the incident after Robb Stark's crowning, Sura had put as much distance between herself and the King of the North as she could. True, she saved his life, but he was still going to die. The assassin would have killed him quickly and quietly if she hadn't interfered, the next time death did not plan on being merciful. He had been hurt by her sudden rejection, by how absolutely she had cut him down. She had said awful, terrible things. Her heart twisted with guilt over what she had done to Robb Stark. Lost in the sea of death, she wasn't sure if she actually was beginning to fall.

"Halt," Captain Mun barked as he pulled up his horse beside Sura's, offering an arm for her to steady herself with. "Are you well?" He didn't hide the malice in his voice. Many soldiers were bold enough to show their displeasure with her presence. She was becoming used to it. Though she would never get used to be looked at as though she were a villain. Everyone looked at her like that, with suspicion and mistrust. With a nod to the Captain, Sura righted herself and nudged her mount forward. She cleared her throat as she tried to stay focused on the movement of the horse beneath her, hoping to tune out her surroundings. The brown horse plodded along the path, stepping over bodies and pieces of bodies like they were logs on the forest floor. It was all so grotesque.

Topping a rise, Sura spotted Robb Stark. He was crouched next to a dying boy who was having his leg cut off. Sura dismounted where indicated, and from there the guards took the horses away and she was left to stand there alone among the bodies. The poor souls had already suffered enough, the last thing they needed was getting caught up in the affairs of a seer. Attempting to find something else to look at - other than the dead - she spotted Robb once again. There was too much distance and death around for Sura to make out what he and the healer were saying to each other. She saw the way Robb looked at her. A blind man could see that he was enchanted by her. While jealousy welled up inside, Sura choked it back, reminding herself of the things that were to come. Remind herself of the dangers that loomed in the distance.

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><p>I know this chapter is much shorter than the others, and there's a bunch of questions this creates. I will clear up as much as I can in the next chapter (and I promise you won't have to wait 3 more years for it) :)<p> 


	11. Chapter 11: The Unexpected Bargain

**A/N: **Well Loves, here is chapter 11! This took quite a bit of thought and scene IV gave me quite a bit of trouble in the beginning (you can't even guess how many versions of it I made). Thank you to everyone who has subscribed and reviewed, it means so much and really does encourage me to keep going.

Mid-terms and spring break are coming up here shortly, so it may be two to three weeks until chapter 12 appears. Thank you for your patience with this chapter and your kind words of encouragement. After 3 years of writers block I'm starting to get my sea legs once again.

I present to you: Chapter 11

A/N 1.5: Thank you to those who corrected my spellings, I have gone through and fixed the ones that were pointed out. Sometimes I forget to name check after I get dialogues out (I write it out as the actual conversation plays in the background)

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><p><strong>I<strong>

"I mothered more than just rebels, a fact you seem to have forgotten." Catelyn said with a disheartened sigh. If she only closed her eyes she could remember what it had been like back safe in Winterfell. Her children gathered around her at table, their warm smiling faces looking at her even as snowy drafts blew through cracks in the stone. Gods how she wished there was some way to set it right.

"If I trade the King Slayer for two girls my bannermen will string me up by my feet," Robb said, the frustration clear in his voice as he shook his head. The weight of the furs on his shoulders served to remind him of everything that now weighed on him. He leaned back against the table, wincing at the pull in his stitches. One way or another, she was always on his mind.

"Then trade the Lannister girl!" She hissed.

"That isn't going to happen," Robb said measuredly. This was not a topic he felt like getting into with his mother. Sura was his prisoner, and he would be damned if he let the Lannister's have her back. Even if she wanted to leave, she knew far too much. Their entire war effort would be foiled and they would all be killed if Tywin learned what she knew.

"You want to leave Sansa in the Queen's hands?"Catelyn started up again, working herself almost into hysteria, "and Arya? I haven't heard a word about Arya. What are we fighting for if not for them?"

"It's more complicated than that. You know it is." Robb shouted in return to his mother. Had she been paying attention to anything that was going on around her? The soldiers out there were no longer fighting to save their Liege Lord - Ned Stark was dead - they were fighting for their independence from the Crown. No amount of his mother's pleading was going to change that circumstance. At his unwavering look, Catelyn seemed to shrink.

"It's time for me to go home. I haven't seen Bran or Rickon in months."

"You can't go to Winterfell."

"Beg your pardon?" Catelyn was taken aback by her son's sudden rebuke.

"I'll send Rodrick to watch over the boys, 'cause tomorrow, you'll ride to the Stormlands."

"Why in the name of all the gods would you," she began in exasperation, when her eldest son quickly cut her off.

"Because I need you to negotiate with Renly Baratheon." His eyes searched hers for support and understanding, "He's rallied an army of one hundred thousand, you know him, you know his family."

"I haven't seen Renly Baratheon since he was a boy! You have a hundred other lords," she started again. Seeming almost desperate not to be given the assignment. But the King in the North had made up his mind.

"Which of these lords do I trust more than you? If Renly sides with us we'll outnumber them two to one," he had an excellent point, "and when they feels the jaws beginning to shut they'll sue for peace. We'll get the girls back, and then we'll all go home. For good." It was a pleasant fiction, one that could become reality if everything went in their favor. For that to happen Robb needed Renly and his men.

"I will ride at first light." Catelyn conceded, seeing the truth in her son's words. Embracing his mother, Robb kissed her forehead, wishing they could go back to simpler times.

His forehead still resting against his mother's, Robb whispered reassuringly to her. "We will all be together again soon, I promise."

Stepping out of the embrace, Catelyn took a moment to take a good, long look at her firstborn. Tall and handsome, he had become quite the man over the last several months. Responsibility had a way of doing that.

"You've done so well, your father would be proud." Lady Stark could not hide the pain or anguish in her voice. It was the first she had even referred to her late husband. The wound was still deep for both of them.

"Give Lord Renly my regards," Robb said sadly over his shoulder as he began to leave the tent.

"King Renly," she said, rolling her eyes and emphasizing the man's title, "there's a king in every corner now."

For several moments after Robb had gone, Catelyn stood completely still. Her heart ached desperately, she felt sick with worry for her daughters and she was worried sick about all of her sons. Robb may have been named a King, but he was her eldest son. She inwardly bristled at the thought of the Lannister girl still at his side, unchecked and unchallenged in her absence. So Catelyn decided that something needed to be done.

**II**

Sighing, Robb stared down at the map in front of him. Hoping that maybe, if he stared long enough that the answers to all his questions would spring forth from the page. What was he supposed to do? Which strategy kept the most people alive? War was an exhausting business, one that he truly hadn't been prepared for. Robb was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took Theon clearing his throat several times before the young King was ripped from his reverie. Glancing up at his friend, he nodded a small greeting.

"Your Grace, some of the men are complaining about the Lannister girl."

"Complaining?" Robb said in incredulity. He had heard no such complaints, "She saved my life. Do they want me to chain her beside her father?"

"They don' trust her at your side," Theon said in exasperation. "She killed good men." Robb provided only silence in response. This was an argument he had heard before. "She's been able to slip past her guard more than once and gotten to her father without so much as anyone noticing. She's _dangerous._"

"I will consider it." Robb hissed dismissively to his once best friend. They had both changed quite a bit since this war had started. It had only served to drive a deep wedge between them. At one time they had been as close as brothers and Robb would have gladly accepted his company, but now they were two completely different people. Rubbing his hands over his dirty face, Robb stared down at the map again.

What did they expect him to do?

**III**

Candlelight danced off the wall, the city had fallen into a quiet nighttime hum. There were so many things to do and so many more to worry about. Between the trouble with the Starks, his nephew's stupidity, and his brother's imprisonment Tyrion was exhausted. The documents Robb had sent, giving his terms of surrender, had made no mention of Sura. The uncertainty of her safety worried him, she was a very valuable piece in this game.

He knew his niece was no fool. She'd spent days on her grandfather's knee, listening to his war stories as he played out ancient battles on a map. She was clever and she was smart, qualities he credited himself with teaching her, and if all else failed her exceptional ability to lie would be her saving grace. So absorbed was he in his own thoughts, Tyrion did not even notice Lord Baelish enter the room.

"I don't appreciate being made a fool of dwarf!" Lord Baelish bellowed as he approached. Tyrion simply looked at him. "If Myrcella marries the Martel boy she can't very well marry Robert Arryn. Can she?"

"No. Afraid not, sorry about that."

"And Harrenhall? That's off the table as well?" Baelish did a poor job of hiding his disappointment.

"Yes, I fear so. Sorry about that too."

"Leave me out of your next deception." Little finger spat feeling thoroughly embarrassed and repulsed.

"That's a shame, you were to be the centerpiece of my next deception. My brother Jaime rots in a Northern Stockade. I would see him, and my niece, released. That's where you come in." His voice was measured, lacking all excitement of energy. It was as though his mind was still very far away. Of course there were many things on the dwarf's mind. He was running the damn kingdom while trying to keep his family alive. His head was constantly pounding.

"Robb Stark will never release the Kingslayer." Baelish uttered the words rather definitively, and for a second Tyrion wondered whose side he was really on. Of course, the answer was the Baelish was on whichever side was best for Baelish.

"No he won't, but his mother might. How would you like to see your beloved Cat again?" Wide eyed, Baelish just stared at him. Petyr's boyhood affection for Catelyn Tully was legendary, and Tyrion was using that to his advantage. Before an answer could be given, Brom's shoes scuffed the stone and announced his presence. Turning his attention for the Master of Coin, Tyrion called over to Brom, "Find him?"

"Oh aye. And he has company." The mercenary chuckled in poorly hidden delight. "Filthy old stout, I almost hate to interrupt."

"No you don't."

"No I don't," Brom agreed shaking his head, and with that he turned and walked out of the room. For a moment there was only silence, Lord Baelish was watching Tyrion closely, and with a small smile, the dwarf set down his book, hopped to his feet and waddled from the room. Hoping against all hope that at least _something_ decent would come out of this plan.

In the meantime, he had a Kingdom to run.

**IV**

Having been removed, rather harshly, from Robb's tent, Sura lead towards where her father was being held. As they moved deeper into the camp, the voices of the dead and dying began to creep into her mind until the cries reverberated in her mind.

Like bees they all milled about their duties. Drones for the Queen of War, she thought unhappily as she was tugged across the sloppy ground. Her arm ached from the way the soldier held her. Did they expect her to bolt? When she protested, the burly, cold eyed guard squeezed harder. It's a wonder he didn't break her arm. Repeatedly she searched the passing soldiers for Rowan, but he was nowhere to be found. Utterly alone, she was half dragged to her new holdings, and tossed inside.

For several hours she prowled the small space, fuming. Sura cradled her wounded pride. Furious she let her mind swim through her bloody thoughts. _How dare they treat her like that? Didn't they know who she was? Had Robb ordered this? He must have. He was the only one with that kind of authority around here. Why? After everything she'd done for him._

The questions were endless, and her head was pounding by the time a pair of servants delivered her belongings and laid out a small feast on the rickety table. In an attempt to drown out the roar in her ears, Sura motioned for a servant to bring her a drink.

After her first cup of wine she could feel the warmth in her face. The buzzing in her ears was beginning to fade. By her second she was mentally cursing Robb Stark and his stupid war. Being in her father's camp had been tolerable, being in Robb's tent was bearable, but this treatment was unacceptable.

After her third cup she was going through the trunk the servants had brought her, digging through the mass of cloth, her hands grasping for the solid surface that should have met her fingers. With a small cry of distress she wheeled around, rocking unsteadily and nearly losing her balance. It had been a long time since she'd had this much to drink this quickly.

"You!" She said, pointing to the mousy looking slave girl by the firepit, "Fetch me the Squid."

"Greyjoy!" Sura snapped, throwing a deadly look at the confused girl. Without hesitation, the servant girl bolted from the tent, and returned not half an hour later with a response Sura didn't want to here.

"DAMN SQUID!" She roared, hurling her cup across the room. Blue eyes nearly white with emotion, Sura's voice dropped low as she hissed at the mousey girl. "You go back and tell him to _come_. Do _NOT_ leave until he agrees. Do not _make _me tell you again. Fail again and it'll cost you your nose!" The terrified girl was gone once again.

Waving at the other servant, who had been silent through all of this, Sura eased into one of the uncomfortable chairs that had been provided for her. Without hesitation the girl provided a new glass and filled it with more wine. Quietly sipping her drink, Sura stared at the flames. The cracking of the twigs echoed, and once again death crept into Sura's mind. There was nothing here but death. All of these soldiers were going to die in horrible, bloody ways. There was no beauty in the guts spilled across the field, men were moaning in agony, just waiting to die. She wanted out of this wretched place.

"Whats this about?" Theon barked, rude as always as he strutted into Sura's new residence. "_You_ summoning _me_?"

"Elegant as always," Sura said, swirling the liquid in her glass. She gestured to the other servant to pour wine for their guest, despite the fact that Sura would much prefer to run a knife through his heart.

"I need your help," she said with a defeated sigh.

"Oh?" Theon's eyebrows rose in surprise. Of all the scenarios he had thought of, her needing his help had not been one of them. Accepting the wine he took to one of the chairs, setting his heels up on the table, knocking over a plate of strawberries in the process. "And why would I help you?"

"Because you have no real stake in this," Sura said, barely veiling her contempt for his desecration of the strawberries. The islanders were such barbarians. "Tomorrow this will all be behind you."

"Your point?" Theon said as he grabbed a handful of grapes and ate them one at a time. Theon had been able to convince Robb to separate from the blond witch, and he was inwardly pleased with the decline of her situation, but Robb still sent her some of the better food. The flush in her cheeks told him she'd had a few cups of wine already. Her speech was surprisingly measured, and she was still beautiful.

"On the table in Robb's tent is a large leather book. It's mine and I want it back."

"A book?" He openly laughed at her request.

"Yes, a book," she snarled with indignation her eyes blazing with pride. "It is important to me, and _I want it back_."

"Well," Theon articulated slowly before he drained his glass, taking a long moment to think. Or just simply taking time to torment her. "What do I get in return?"

Part of her could not believe she was about to strike this bargain. The other knew that it was necessary. Certain events had to happen, a single breeze had set the boat off course, another was needed to set things right. Plus, that book was worth far more than anyone had come to realize yet. It was important that things remained that way.

"Bring me the book, and you'll have what you want."

The look in his eyes was all the answer she needed.

Men were such simple creatures.

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><p>As always your comments, questions or concerns are important to me! Either leave a comment below or shoot me a message.<p>

Just repeating: Mid-terms and spring break are coming up for me. I can almost guarantee that an update will not come before the 16th.


	12. Chapter 12: On the Path

A/N: Hey guys, this chapter may be a little short for some, but finals are over and summer has begun! Hopefully that means I can be better about updating. Thank you for all your patience, enjoy 3

Hours had passed quietly before Theon strode triumphantly into her tent.

In those hours she had quietly contemplated her situation. She knew that with some careful maneuvering she could outsmart the squid. Gods be damned if he thought he was going to lay a hand on her.

With a thump the book hit the table. The leather cover was warn and faded, and simply by looking at it she knew he was not deceiving her. A faint smile came to her lips and quickly disappeared. With her back turned to Theon she flipped through the pages as if she were examining it before nonchalantly setting it aside. She knew his crocodile eyes were trained on her as he settled into a chair and waited expectantly.

The forgotten fire had dwindled. The minuscule light cast frail shadows across the room. Red and orange painted the sheets and the sleeping, shirtless form of Theon Greyjoy. In the morning he would wake to a headache unlike none other. The tasteless powder that had been added to Theon's drink had sent the squid into a deep sleep. It was an experience similar to blacking-out

She sat across the room, thick furs wrapped around her shoulders, the leather bound book pressed against her chest.

The familiar leather was warm against her skin. Nearly three hundred years of history was recorded on these pages – history that had been managed and kept by a bloodline of seers. The number of seers that remained in the world was unknown, and the whereabouts of any of their ledgers was an utter mystery. The Ledgers contained knowledge of events that might have set history on a completely different course. Sura had read a handful of small sections, attempting to understand why her ancestors had made certain choices. Some of the hand writing was difficult to make out, which didn't make the pages any easier to read. Worse yet, most pages contained horrific tragedies.

Not once had she been able to bring herself to read the pages her mother had written.

Taking advantage of the silence, Sura scrawled her own note in the book. In tiny, neat letter she described the assassination attempt on Robb's life and the part she had played in it. Every one of her predecessors had filled page after page with accounts – why would her story be any different? The war was only beginning, her current visions alone were enough to tell her so.

All Sura could do was wait for Dawn . Her plan to retrieve the ledger had worked, aside from that, she hadn't put very much thought into her next move. Then again, he would not be his sharpest when he awoke, and it could be quite a while before he realized her deception. By then he would be heading far, far away and there was little chance they would actually see one another ever again. Beyond hope or reason, Sura wanted nothing more than to be rid of the quid.

A low mist hung among the tents and a chill set in as the sky began to lighten. Sura could hear others beginning to stir, the slow mumble that began the roar of the day. With a sudden flourish, a heavily armored knight barged into her tent. He stuck his head back outside, whistled, and then returned to the interior. He was quickly followed by a second night who was barely half dressed. The each crossed the floor to opposite sides of the makeshift bed and each grabbed Theon by an arm. Roughly, they lifted him off the bed.

"Still stone drunk 'e is," The half-dressed knight grunted as they untangled Theon from the sheets.

"Then get him sober."

The voice of the young king was cold and stern. The small tent seemed to lose all of its air as the Wolf and the Lion locked eyes. Feeling the tension, the two knights quickly dragged Theon from the tent. Leaving Sura and Robb alone. The pain he was feeling was painted on his face, along with a mix of betrayal and a hint of hatred. The silence between them stretched as Robb paced the room, unable to stay still. Tired and agitated by the entire saga of events, though grateful her problem had been solved, Sura rose from her chair.

"You betrayed me."

"Pardon?" Sura said coolly as she sipped water from a goblet. Her head hurt and she wanted to go to sleep. Whatever conversation Stark wanted to have, surely it could wait until tomorrow?

"How could you?" He asked quietly. The anger in his voice was thinly veiled. So the deception had worked, and the rift between Robb and Theon had been widened. Did Robb think he was the only one who had cause to be angry? He believed that she had given herself that worm? All of those nights she had been in his tent, all of the opportunities she had, and he believed she chose Theon over him? Sura could feel the spark ignite in her heart, a deep anger that was rooted in her genes.

"I have no loyalty to you, Stark." She hissed quietly.

"So everything between us was a lie?"

"It's all a part of the game." It was as if she had stabbed him, the pain was so plainly displayed on his face. She had dealt the young king a critical blow. Without another word Robb collected the pieces of his broken heart and fled.

With a gasp Sura exhaled, the emotion crashing down on her. She fell to her knees and the tears fell shortly after. None of this was supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be here, or be in love with Robb Stark. But, certain things had to happen. She had told him from the beginning that fate had no plan for them. She had tried so hard to keep her own feelings at bay. To an extent it had worked. She wiped the last of her tears away, and forced herself back to her feet and crossed the room. Numbness began to seep through her veins as she sunk onto her – finally – empty bed.


End file.
